Summer blazes above these clouds--
a sky so blue it cleaves the heart,
a sun so vast it fills the sky,
and puts all other stars to shame.
Beneath these clouds a thin life wavers,
laid, prone and lifeless, on a bed.
Her loved ones long to grant her wish,
for she is dead in all but name.
Oh, Lone Star, why enchain this angel,
and banish her to winter's gloom--
against the claims of summer's glory--
through laws so heartless, cold, and vain?
If the God you worship recalled her
to his realm, there she should be.
Man's interference is her prison.
Would you a soul from Him detain?
Nature's miracles are superseded,
it appears, now by medicine;
but we, compassionate, can restore
the balance to this foolish game.
Above these clouds a summer blazes.
Here, only kindness dispels the chill.
Some things are best not legislated--
the decision's theirs who bear the pain.
(c) 2014, by Hannah Six