A Poem

A poem written by my brother Gene.  I really like it.  He's an amazing writer, I wish he'd take up writing stories again.

In a stupor on a gurney

rolling down a sterile hallway

dreaming I was riding my bike

gliding on a smooth back road

we were heading to a room

where magicians and their apprentices

would hook me to machines

that would do my living for me

while the head priest

ripped open my chest

and showed my heart a small bit

of the outside world

a sight I'm sure it has never forgotten

now when I sleep and the calm settles

does heart whisper tales to lung, spleen, liver

of the terrifying world outside?

of bright light, white creatures, noise and

the stabbing pain of needles?

In the mirror I see the long dark scar

and run my fingers over it

in wonder that a man could just drive to work

and give another something so precious

another chance at life