DEATH BY DIVISION

By

Charles W. Shirriff

Like a cuckoo’s egg

in a robin’s nest,

The invader hid as one among millions,

Stealing shelter and nourishment, unnoticed.

Biding its time

Waiting to strike.

A receptive disciple

and a swift conversion,

Now there were two, then four, then eight -

Increasing in galloping geometric progression.

A covert army collecting its power.

One by one

but thousands at a time,

Each converted cell saps my remaining strength,

Until there is none left and my body dies.

But it is only my body

Not my Soul.