poem: ferryman's confessions

it's my job to get the old

people's stories told

it makes me sad

to help them out of the bed

and hear what they have had

when they were young like me

and the places they have been

and the things that they have seen

are the things I wish to see

and the moment they are leaving

that's when they stop breathing

is the moment we will meet again

I take them cross the river

and they have nothing to pay the ride

so they sell me their stories

and sometimes their worries

they know to tell them well

and there is nothing new

so they tell you

the stories 4 times sold

the whole ride through

one time we'll be old

in some way I can't be happy about it

I see the worries, the loss of memory and the pain

I see people dying

but mostly they are crying

about the things they have lost

still I've got nothing to lose

for sure I'm not the one to choose

but I wish to die before the bitter end

23.02.2009