Injustice

I had a patient who spent almost his entire life on or near the ocean, at least until the end. He toured the world transporting the commerce of life in massive steel ships. At the beginning of World War II he was working as a Merchant Seaman on the Pacific Side of the world. His ship headed straight for Long Beach Harbor when Pearl Harbor was bombed.

Upon arriving in Long Beach the ship was met by a contingence of Army Personnel and he was sworn into the Army and worked the docks for two years. The Army finally wised up and he transferred to the Navy and ended up transporting materials on Liberty Ships to Europe. At the conclusion of the European Theater he transferred to the Pacific and worked transport duty there until the end of the war. He was still serving in the US Navy when the Korean War started and he served in that Theater also transporting men and materials to hazardous locations.

When the war ended he went back to working as a Merchant Seaman and traveled the world and experienced many wonders. Somehow he ended up in the Southwest living in the desert. He told me many times he missed the sea and his friends and wanted to go back to San Francisco so he could die. We were trying to arrange a way for this to happen when he was found dead in his bed one morning. Before he died he gave one of the nurses and myself a packet of poems he had written. This one was near the top of the stack. It speaks for itself. I think he died of a broken heart.

INJUSTICE; by Ray

Two children I have lost to death, both victims of a crime;

The killer of my son confessed, the other has done no time;

My son's killer did receive, seven years the judge did mete;

While my boy has ceased to breathing, that guy is on the street.

My daughter's killer, still walks free, no doubt he's prone to gloat;

I'm safe, and they won't catch me, though I raped and cut her throat;

Four years have passed, chances slim, to see justice done;

Injustice, not to collar him, before he kills someone.

I'd really like to face this bum, for, in all my fury;

I wouldn't guarantee this scum, would ever face a jury;

For forty cents, will buy one shell, I'd face him with a smile;

Send this slime, on the road to hell, and save the state a trial.

No chance for this piece of slime, to ask pity from his peers;

A lawyer to plead his crime, he does just ten years;

The quickest and the just way, to treat this vicious thug;

Spend the forty cents, I'll pay, for a thirty eight magnum slug.

links: digg this    del.icio.us    technorati    reddit