This week’s poem speaks for itself – how events can modify our views on things. Growing older makes it harder to have a fixed view as life teaches you her love of irony.
Drugs of Irony
Seeking a sense of doing something useful
I’m sorting through papers, old notes,
Notebooks, throwing away, pulling pages.
Find an old poem fuming at drugs industry,
Spread of resistance, careless diagnosis, over medication!
This morning I was arguing with my son,
Pleading for him to take his medicine. All of it,
Each nausea inducing capsule and pill,
Even without symptoms, without clear understanding.
Less questions and more fear of risks
When you’re fumbling down cancer’s dark roads.