Hope: My Cure Is In Other People

By Rojin Demirkiran

Again, a melancholic night descends
Oh Mother
Lights come on one by one
My face, pale
My hands, ice cold
Again, time for me to take blood
The nurses appear in my room
Here again, starts my pain
Screams within me turn into cries
For some, a month
For others, a fortnight
It never lasts, this sweet blood

Oh Mother, I’m a thalassemia patient
My cure is hidden in other people
This blessing called marrow transplanting
Is like the pearl in the oyster
Surely I will find it
And these days will pass
There is happiness in my yesterday
And hope will be in my tomorrows
My despair will be my cure I know

Don’t be upset Mother
Don’t shed you tears Father
I will be cured

I COULD NOT FIND THE CURE
YOU COULD NOT BE THE OINTMENT TO MY WOUND
DAYS ARE PASSING AND I COULD NOT FIND
BLOOD FOR MY VEINS
FORGIVE ME MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER
I COULD NOT FIND LIFE FOR MY BODY

One sees hope
From the hospital’s window
Flowers bloom
Butterflies flutter
And children run towards their future
When my Mother sees them
And tears fall down her face
That’s the moment that’s hurts me
More than a thousand needles

In some corners my heart trembles
Corridors of the hospital are full of children crying
And desperate mothers and fathers
I have a body that grows drop by drop
A tired face
Eyes that speak in silence
But I have left my nightmares behind
I have taken my hopes and dreams with me
I’m a thalassemia patient Father
I have hair that I don’t have the heart to brush
I have smiles that never fall from my face
PLEASE FIND THE CURE FOR MY ILLNESS
FROM NOW ON DON’T LET THE
THALASSEMIA FLOWERS WITHER

I know a day will come
And I will be cured
I will be free from these pains,
Run from these hospitals corners
From these painful needles
This desperation will end
I know, but the cure of this illness
Is hidden within you
YES, YOU

MY HANDS ARE TREMBLING
MY BODY IS TIRED
MY SKIN IS WITHERED
I NEED A DROP OF BLOOD.

This Poem Features In: