Back in the day, everyone loved a good hanging –
curiosity gathered in the town square, red-nosed,
waiting for the theatre of mortality to end.
Today I attract the equivalent crowd –
have to untangle my vocal cords
from intrusive questioning.
Hospice is an experience with the brink,
as near the cliff edge you can go without falling.
Natural death isn’t quick.
It begins with a storm brewing in the chest –
thunder of increasing intensity,
crackles of lightning in the airway.
It ends with a moment of clarity,
final words like a rainbow
Hannah Hodgson is a 21 year old poet living with a life limiting illness and disability. She writes about these themes as well as hospice, feminism and other topics. Her first pamphlet Dear Body was published in 2018. www.hannahhodgson.com