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Annette Hansen

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Member Since: Feb, 2005

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Peter and Paul
by Stan Law (aka Stanislaw Kapuscinski)

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by Annette Hansen
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Annette Hansen
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Written for my family about the death of my father from cancer. This reflects my viewpoint that suffering is a part of life and those who die never truly leave us. This poem has been published in a book called 'Celebrating Life' which I subedited for the Royal Melbourne Hospital's Bone Marrow Transplant Unit to commemorate its twentieth anniversary.


I touch your forehead and you take my hand.
Itís new to us, but it feels so right,
like an angel is here to guide the touch

between a dying man and the part of him

 he leaves behind.
That part is me.

Iím warm in my bed at night, waiting for the awful sound
that stirs me from my dreamland.
This is reality Ö itís true and itís real.
No matter how angry or sad I am, or how much it hurts,
I have to hear him suffer.
íPlease can you help me? I canít stand any more.í
A humble plea for help from a man who once stood proud,
who is now ashamed that he can no longer command anyone or anything,

not even his own body.
The shame in his eyes frightens me as it steals his dignity.

ĎPlease come and sit with me again,í he asks.
ĎI am scared, but I wonít say it out loud, not here.
Please donít cry when Iím gone, donít be sad.
Be happy, donít let my memory cause you tears.
Wherever I am, Iíll be happy too.
They are waiting for me, the ones who passed before me.
These are the only comforts that can take away the agony of my regrets.
Please donít do what I have done; donít only live for tomorrow.
Plan for the future, but live for today.í
Havenít we all heard that before?
For this man whose life was young

but whose body is now old and nearing its end,
it is now too late.

Night after night, we wait and watch.
Day after day, we know itís coming.
He does too, but he canít understand why.
All we can do is hope that when heís gone,
life still goes on, holding our memories to our hearts.

ĎItís getting closer, please hold my hand,í he begs.
ĎIím scared and not sure where I am.
I canít settle down, the light keeps me awake,
and yet the room is dark because I can no longer see.
I know you are here.
People are drifting into my mind and out again.
I want to fight Ö but the lightÖ the light.

Please tell me, doctor, how do I get through to the other side?
I do see a door, but I canít open it, I canít leave yet.
I resist and I agonise and itís hell on earth Ö but Iím not ready.
My arms are flailing for something to grasp;
any speck of reality that remains in this room that was part of my human life.
And soon that door will open to let me through.
Iím still fighting to the very end, my will is still strong,
even if my body is gone and wracked with pain.

My mother, my father, my brother, they see me.
A glow of warmth is beckoning.

But I didnít finish my time here.
I didnít finish my life and itís just not fair.
But my wife, my daughters Ė and their daughters too;
Iíll know them, even those unborn, with their blue eyes and golden hair.

Finally the joy is seeping in. The light is here! The door is open!
I have found my mother Ö she sees me. Itís easier now.
She tells me what I want to hear, that I am not dying alone.
My family are here now, just a little too late, but here.
They enter my room and see just the shell of what I was.
This shell of my body carried me through that life, just a vessel,
but my soul is gone, rising upwards on a stream of stars.

They kiss me and touch me and say their goodbyes,
but I am up here in the soft, comforting, warm light of my new life,
looking down and loving them forever.

The sadness will pass in time, so please donít cry.
Enjoy the relief. I am sorry I made you suffer so,
for I suffer no more and that is what I want for you.
I havenít forgotten my life there on earth,
Iíll keep in touch.
I left something behind for you, something I lost.í

One year to the day, the pain has subsided and life goes on.
We donít want to forget, but our lives have moved on.
Standing in the garden, talking with a friend, something glistens,
there in the grass where she has been many times since he left,
something he lost when it slipped off his wasted finger.
A symbol of their never ending bond.
A ring.
A wedding ring.
He found it for her.
And she cries.
For he is here. 

© Annette Hansen

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Reviewed by Annabel Sheila
An extremely emotional, heartwrenching write, Annette! It's a helpless feeling to watch someone you love suffer and pass away. I know, I've been heart breaks for your sadness.

Reviewed by Sheila Roy
A touching poem. You capture emotions we all go through in life. This especially reminds me of a friend who lost her son. It wasn't a natural death. He was shot. Her pain was/is unmeasurable. I imagine it is harder to accept when someone is taken unnaturally. Love and Hugs,
Reviewed by Joey Lawsin
It is just human nature to feel sad when someone passed away. But there is a deeper meaning why this event took place. It is just a matter of time, but in the end we will be them too in an angelical world I called nabse...AOUIE
Reviewed by John Domino
Peace be with you.

Exceptionally well written!

GOD has blessed you with talent!
Reviewed by Lois Christensen
To go quickly and peacefully like my hubby did was do much easier than you described here, but I can sympathize with you and know it gets easier and he did leave a sign behind, a ring found, and mine left a butterfly to remind me he is with me in spirit. A blue monarch butterfly is my symbol that tells me he is still living and alive and with the angels in his heavenly home. nice write and flows so easily and ends so in tragedy but we know it gets easier with time. I bear with you in your gried still and always will.
Reviewed by Miller Caldwell
Only one who has been there can captivate the pain and anguish at the loss of a loved one. Yet in writing like this, a permanent mark is made for others to cherish years after. That is the power and the relevance of poetry.
Well done
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