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She is a ghost, Now.

A chilling slice of wind that curls

around the hairs of your forearm.

Refusing to leave in such a fashion,

She is a ghost.


Taken not by the disease

that wracked the body,

but simply by some ink on a page

a pen in the hand

a job at a desk

an office in a building

a policy at a company

a bottom line on a spreadsheet

that said this disease could withstand

modern medicine and

modern accounting that says

While we buy a war and a campaign and a Lexus,

We can't afford to save everybody.





[I was asked to write a poem in the subject of health care]

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Comment by Jodie Ann Christiansen on December 11, 2010 at 11:12pm

 sensing  reality  and regret here

Comment by stephen dijoseph on December 6, 2010 at 10:11am
really powerful J. Barrett Wolf !
Comment by Ericka Gray on December 5, 2010 at 12:33pm
Pardon the pun but that is truly haunting.
Comment by wiffledust on December 3, 2010 at 2:23pm
when you include a photo in the body of the blog, it's easier seen in featuring...up to you!
Comment by Bettina Woolard on December 2, 2010 at 8:31pm
I think this poem is great!
Comment by wiffledust on December 2, 2010 at 7:36pm
it's sooo true. and you did it so beautifully. it's sad that it's so true. but you captured it well!

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