Death By Division

(Inspired by comments on a friend’s death

from AIDS circa 1990)

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 strength.

One by one

But thousands at a time

Each converted cells saps my remaining strength

Until there is none left and my body dies.

But it is only my body . . .

Not my soul.