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The Right Place to be Sick


Where can a man be sick anymore?
Where can he sneeze 
And wipe his nose on his sleeve 
If all the sick are sentenced indoors?

Where can a man be ill these days?     
Where can he turn green
And heave the poison within
If our goal is to evade his malaise?

Where can a man be afraid in these parts?  
Where can he speak out
His symptoms and doubts
If his thoughts threaten friends weak at heart?  

Where can a man be a sinner anymore?   
Where can he complain,
Snivel, rage or be ashamed
If all on this earth are thusly sore?

Where have the desperate gone before now,
Where blindness and sin
Are not new to him
And mistakes, faults, and tears he allows?

Where have the hurt found relief in the past?
Where did the blind fall
And the sinners all crawl
To find answers to all they have asked?

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