The Crow and I

I am no vegetable
nor am I unconscious;
merely sleeping.
I have lost
the power of speech –
limbs, albeit, paralysed,
but I have not
lost my mind.
I wish to be fed
and yet you remove
my feeding tube
even against
my expressed desire.
I, who am taking
too long to die.
Never think
for one second
I am unaware.

I am a strain
on resources –
too expensive
to keep alive.
“No one lives
for ever,” they tell her.
“Excuse me!” I yell.
“Forgive me, please, if I try.”
But no one listens ...
except my wife.
I am her silent prayers,
the futile tears she cries.
And, the sound of the crow
outside my window
that knows life
was interrupted here.
“For the best …
for the best,” it caws.
I am that lie.