This poem is hosted on this site by kind permission of the author,
Bob Whorton (Chaplain, Rampton Hospital, UK)
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A poem written on waking one night...
DEATH OF A PATIENT
They told us
just before we
had our tea
that Judas I.
had died -
suddenly.
We did not ask
when or how or why,
we just went quiet
and waited
'cos that's what
you do here -
fear I suppose.
Then someone heard
he'd self-ligated
which means
he hung himself.
They say it is a shame
and no-one is to blame;
he didn't leave a note,
he was a decent sort of bloke,
and no-one can understand it
because he was so much better
and the medication was really working
and he was going to church
and doing well in therapy
and gaining insight.
But my room was next to his
and I would hear him sometimes
in the night.
Bob Whorton
This poem is Copyright Bob Whorton 2001- for information about reproduction in any form, send a detailed request to copyright@hospitalchaplain.com
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