(from the poem archives, dated December 6,2001. I thought it would be appropriate for National Diabetes Month)
Last night I dreamed there was a cure
And folks were lined up at the door
This cure was real, there were no pills
No side effects, no doctor bills.
One shot, forever free to be
From this dreaded thing they call the D
Islet cells, that won't die off
Each time I get a stupid cough.
The freedom was a sight to see
The joy was real, unbridled, free
We chucked our meters,took a bite
This food would not cost us our sight.
Nine more years have come and gone
Since yesteryear's whisimcal song
We're waiting still, who knows how long
It's all so very,very wrong.
(it's weird how fast time passes when one is waiting on a cure. I'm sure that fifteen years from now,I'll be looking back at 2010 (in much the same light-like,whoa, those were the dark ages of D-care) & there still won't be a cure. Which I'm expecting,but it doesn't mean that I don't want one,bad)