This is something very personal.
I shudder, bit scared
Shall I donate my organs
So another human can see through my eyes?
Liver, gets rid of toxins and God knows what
My heart in someone else’s body
My feelings once connected to my brain
Was that destined?
I feel a need to preserve
Who are my benefactors,
The receivers of my glands?
An activist? A hater?
Will it be an imbecile or innocent child?
I will never know
Will I be generous
Part of an another body?
Let’s hope the gun
Never fires again
Nor a sudden heart attack
Besides, I still have an unfinished obituary
(For more of Arthur's poetry, see poetrypearls.com, artspoems.com, or Google "Arthur Weil Poetry Books". )