Weeping for Godot

No point in hanging about, then.
If the prognosis is certain,
death is revealed as the inevitable consequence.
No reprieve. No last minute stay of execution.
No going gently into this good night.
Why Dan, why Rob.
Why Norrie, Malcolm , Dave, Marianne.
Now cancer touches Susie, Janis and Jan.
Why not me ? Why not you ?
If sickness lives in the air we breathe,
if terrorism lurks in baby's milk,
is there hope in the future for any of us?
What is left to believe in ? Such absence,
such emptiness, such hatred,
such illness and disease.

Then I hear my man's merry laughter,
his steady voice, over and over again.
"It's only pain, Magsie.
It's only pain".
My turn in time, I hear it whispered
in the waning of the moon.

But not yet, Not yet.
A new moon waxes,
-Macfarlane's Boat -
and life goes on
albeit dampened
with salt tears.