Sterile Air

Someday,

My skin will sag

My hair will fade to grey

And my bones will grow weak.

Someday,

When my children are grown

And their children are grown

My body will start to fail me.

Someday,

They'll take me in,

And hook me up to the machines

To keep me alive.

And I won't be able

To argue.

And because they are young

My children,

The doctors,

They think all life is precious.

They will all agree

To keep me alive this way.

Someday,

I will reach

For the great

All or nothing.

And my hand will be blocked

By machines.

They think all life is precious

And they aren't wrong.

But they are young,

and don't yet understand,

that death is precious too.