She stood at the end of the noisy street <br />and the motorcars rumbled on by <br />she was here for one purpose and that was to meet <br />the old man who would help her to die. <br /> <br />It was legal at last and the government had <br />in its wisdom declared that each city <br />could accomodate those who would follow this fad <br />and who'd die among strangers and pity. <br /> <br />And the country was neutral as it always had been <br />individuals did keep their rights, <br />every man was his master and in charge of each sin <br />but no foreigner died during nights. <br /> <br />They were taking in silence to a room in the rear <br />of a boarding house painted pitch black, <br />the injection came fast, there was time for no tear <br />once committed they never came back. <br /> <br />In the alley was waiting a fresh-polished hearse <br />and the driver was dressed in Tuxedo, <br />at the signal he read her a catholic verse <br />all in English, she'd come from Toledo. <br /> <br />For an extra few francs one got buried near town <br />with a view of the snow covered mountains <br />and each body was dressed in a Loetschenthal gown <br />there to rest among flowers and fountains. <br /> <br />It is strange how we all, when the hour is near <br />are convinced of a life after death <br />it erases the worries and dampens the fear <br />and it eases the very last breath.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/euthanasia-in-switzerland/
