SIGNS OF LIFE
The assault from all sides of everything,
Admin, maintenance, commitments and undertakings,
You, them, others, requests and demands
For time, money or an opinion
All fell away as I delivered a small
White-faced scops owl to his death.
I’d signed his death warrant.
He was gassed and ready for his final injection
When this “what if” was weighed up
Against the idea of his burial; an unlikely operation
To remove an obstruction almost as big as his head
Against which he had strained, immobilised by his affliction
While I could not find answers. He was sliced open,
Pain-free for the first time in degenerating weeks.
The minutes dragged by the way that months can.
From his bubble-wrap body blanket
His will to live snipped at my fingers,
But his eyes didn’t open for three days.
I feed him morsels, fluids, antibiotics and Metacam,
As he stands, motionless, daily, invisibly mending.
