To Whom The Gods Have Not Given Long Life

Harry Willing recently returned
from his third heart operation
which he explained to me
but sadly I couldn’t fathom the intricate details
as his second stroke, at age 49,
had impaired his speech.
Once a bus driver
today Harry stood next to the mailman
and told him the apartment number
for each name on the envelope.
He needed this job. It gave
him a sense of purpose.
In the end, six months later,
he disappeared into death
not wanting to
the work still to be done.

by Charles Chaim Wax

Comments (1)

Charles, this is a sad poem. The title is apt. Death, the great leveler comes to some sooner than others but comes to us all whether we want to go or not. (I'd like to live forever, myself.) I am saddened that your friend Harry died, assuming that he is a real person. I am sure that he would like your poem and appreciate it. I think this is one of the best poems I have read in a long time.