Rough Sleeper OR A Thousand Cuts a Day and Counting

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

[Update December 22, 1918: Almost 600 homeless people died in England and Wales last year, according to official figures only recently published for the first time. The figure represents a rise of 24% over five years, according to the Office for National Statistics; these are the first official estimates of the number of deaths of homeless people, which show 84% of those who died were men.]

It is snowing here in London today. In winter especially, but all year round, yoo, let us remember the homeless and do what we can for them; a little, really can go a long way.

In the current economic climate, more and more people are faced with the prospect of having their home repossessed so…there but for good fortune go you or I ...

Incidentally, this poem was written in 1990. As I look around at the homeless on the streets of London, it does not seem to me that anywhere near as much has changed as was promised by the politicians in those far-off days ...

There are, of course, 'career' beggars on the streets, but a discerning eye can usually tell who is genuine and who isn't. We all make mistakes, though. Here in London, I well recall a day I gave money to a street beggar only to spot him get into an impressive-looking car (parked several streets away) a few hours later and drive off! A former 'beggar' I met in a pub once confided that begging financed his drinking and drug addictions for years until he eventually got help to turn his life around.

So ... when in any doubt...don't. [There are other ways to support homeless and other deserving charities online.] Yet, there but for ... could be you or me.

ROUGH SLEEPER or A THOUSAND CUTS A DAY, AND COUNTING

‘Hungry – Homeless - No dole’

says a card beside a begging bowl

outside a busy supermarket;

red-rimmed eyes trying to read

the pavement for signs

of homeless-friendly footsteps

worth a pleading glance

for even half a chance of a cuppa

in some cosy café

A few coins here, a few coins there,

the odd note, a few euros,

or cents, whatever; just enough

to keep a scarecrow in bird seed,

and…

Oh, but what the heck…?

Chatty conversation, hacking

at the neck

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Ritual Slaughter' in my first collection, Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]

Soulmates OR Whatever Happened to Freedom of Choice?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

[Update Jan 15 2019]: Today the Royal College of Physicians (RCP) announced they'll be surveying their members on their stance to assisted dying. A majority of two thirds for either support or opposition will be needed for the RCP to take either of these positions. If there is not a two-thirds majority for either option, the college will become neutral in order to respect the range of views among doctors.]

[Update Nov 29 2017]: Most readers will be aware that three judges subsequently ruled against Noel, who argued that the law on assisted dying should be changed to allow him a “peaceful and dignified” death. He had wanted a declaration that the Suicide Act 1961 is incompatible with article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights which relates to respect for private and family life. ]

[Update July 17 2017]: Noel Conway, 67, a terminally ill former lecturer, will come before the high court today to challenge the UK’s ban on assisted dying. Noel, from Shrewsbury, was diagnosed with motor neurone disease in November 2014. His condition is incurable and he is not expected to live beyond the next 12 months.]

[Update Jan 06 2017): Yet another case hits the national news of a man, Noel Conway, who has Motor Neurone Disease who is seeking the legal right to end his life with professional help. I appreciate that opinion is very divided on what is, after all, a very emotive matter. I can only agree, though, that it is QUALITY of life that matters, not necessarily life itself in certain circumstances. Everyone's capacity for bearing pain and a diminishing quality of life is different. But surely, we all, as individual human beings have the right to decide when enough is enough? Yes, of course, any law permitting assisted dying would need to impose reasonable limitations. Even so, my own feeling is that it is my life and no one has the right to force me into a state of existence that appals me. We have no choice about coming into the world. Do we not deserve to be shown some compassion and the right to choose on the question of leaving it, as controversial as it may well always be...?]

[Update (Oct 20 2016) I write a lot about positive thinking (and practise what I preach) and several readers have asked how I reconcile this poem to that mindset. For me, a release from pain when there is little of no chance of one's quality of life improving (before it worsens) is positive thinking. It is not only tough on the person who is in pain, but also on their friends and family. For me, also, I could not bear the prospect of any dementia getting progressively worse and would want to take action while I could still make the decision. It is a purely personal choice and one which I would expect those who know me to respect. Those of you who agree with me probably feel as I do that quality of life is more important to us than simply carrying on for life's sake in circumstances we would find appalling. As far as I am concerned, the law is an ass in this respect and no judge has the right to tell me I must live the kind of life I would not wish on my worst enemy.] 

'The quality of mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes…'

William Shakespeare (The Merchant of Venice)

Meanwhile...

Readers often get in touch about the complex, sensitive and highly emotive subject of assisted suicide since I first posted this poem on the blogs and included it in my last poetry collection. I have to say, 99% of these have expressed much the same sentiments as my own. Having said that, everyone will, of course, have their own views, and almost certainly feel as strongly as I do wherever they stand on this contentious issue.

Now, according to reports, it appears that plans for a mobile euthanasia team to assist people to die at home have been given the go-ahead in Holland. A mobile team of doctors would be the first in the world to carry out assisted suicides in borderline cases where family doctors refuse to administer patients with lethal drugs on ethical grounds. Even so, these doctors will have to comply with the same ‘due care criteria’ as ‘regular’ doctors.

Many people have pressed for changes in the law regarding euthanasia here in the UK. Only last week the Archbishop of Canterbury warned that changes to the law to allow assisted suicide in the UK would spell “disaster” and a shift in societal attitudes towards the sanctity of life, it was reported by the Press Association.

How dare these people presume to deny us the basic Human Right to decide to end our lives when we no longer feel able to go on living? Whose life is it, anyway?

We have no say in being born, we deserve a say in dying. It is pathetic that we have a Court of Human Rights that denies us one of the most fundamental Human Rights of all; the right to have a say in whether we live or die, and in appropriate circumstances be listened to and have our personal feelings on the matter respected.

No one would deny there have to be safeguards in place; anyone contemplating suicide is very vulnerable to abuse by unscrupulous people. I also agree that anyone contemplating such a step should discuss it with a professional counsellor as well as their immediate family.

 I tried to commit suicide some 30+ years ago during a severe nervous breakdown. I narrowly survived, and each day since has been a welcome bonus. I could probably have been talked out of it had there been anyone at the time in whom I could confide. Depression alone is no grounds for euthanasia although it may well seem so to a depressed person at the time.

 I've always  strongly supported assisted suicide for people in chronic pain, for whom there is little if any relief and those diagnosed with a terminal illness that have no wish to see it through to the bitter end. It is their choice; while they have every right to express an opinion, no law, religion  or pro-life activist should be allowed to dictate to us about ending our lives where we can make a cast iron personal case for doing so; i.e. in the light of how we see it, not them, and on our terms not theirs. I, for one would have no hesitation should, for example, my prostate cancer spread and I was told nothing could be done about it. Close friends are aware of this, and share my views on the matter. Yet, were such circumstances to arise, they would face potential imprisonment for helping me end my own life at my own carefully considered wish.  I would not wish that on them any more than they would wish a lonely death on me.

Dementia is a tricky one. As regular readers will know, I, personally, share the views publicly expressed by the author Sir Terry Pratchett who is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. I, too, would not want to sink into the kind of twilight existence that comes later. But everyone has their own view on the subject. Whatever, that view should be respected, not dismissed on either a point of law or a religious belief that the person concerned may not even share. Loved ones will, understandably, want to keep us with them for as long as possible, but love is also about knowing when to let go...

SOULMATES or WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FREEDOM OF CHOICE?

I feel my body growing weaker,
active mind starting to lose its way,
will as stubborn as ever
as I get through each new day
as best I can, tearful
now and then rather than fearful
of coming to the end
of all ends, wishing it could be
on my own terms

My body, once my best friend,
now my jailer, denying me access
to even the simplest things
I need to do, places I’d like to go,
people I want to see
who understand (only too well)
how much harder it is for me
to endure all this, knowing things
can only get worse

How can I be as strong for others
as I want to be when each day sees
the strength draining out of me,
save a sense of spirituality that keeps
me afloat in a cruel sea
where few dare throw even a straw
for fear the law will not recognise
that how a person lives merits a say
in how he or she dies?

I, Dignity, soulmate to Human Rights,
dares keep the dying, too, in my sights

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2017

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised since its first appeared in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]