This poem was published in my 2017 collection, Well Met: Poems of Companionship. It uses the multiple meanings of the word “cure” to explore what the Christian life will be like with our new and ever-extending lifespans, and what the implications are for society and for the Church.
I encourage you to listen to the audio above, which is basically just my reading of the poem. The text is below.
To Cure Is To Care For (The Calamity Of So Long Life) Better to be cured and die Than to healed be and live. To cure is to care for, Said the museum head. That's what the pills are there for, Retorted the mummy undead. If medicine is magical Then what does the doctor do? His care is clearly clerical, His licenses not a few. To live so long immured Don't strike as dignified. To care for is to cure. If only I had died! If only you were by my side. To cure is to care for, The caring is what cures. A remedy with no wherefore Destroys its life for sure. If medicine is magical Then what am I living for? An eternal life that's chemical And a body never sore. There's the respect that makes Calamity of so long life: The crippled fear of aches and breaks, Of fortune and the two-edged knife. If medicine is magical Then surely there's a pill for that. The science of life is practical And surely there's a pill for that. To cure is to care for Said the parish priest. The only way to get there Is the belly of the beast. If salves and balms are magical What does the philosopher do? He rubs his chin methodical And thinks it hardly through. If medicine is magical Then magical is art. Think of the boy in the bubble And the baby with the baboon heart. To be cured until I die Is what I ask from life. The only way to get Through the belly of the beast Is to die for once the death That gets you to the feast. To cure is to care for, He said as he slipped the blade, Dividing joint from marrow Before the body decayed.
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"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."