another night nurse comes and goes,
another tech to check my chart,
the nightly blur of shrouded forms
i peer at through the bleary dark
there’s no one cruel, it’s not like that.
just people, doing what they must:
and i am, well, another bed
to make, to clean, to dress, adjust —
i dream sometimes of dying here.
it feels like it would be relief:
but i am trying to adapt,
for pleasing is my leitmotif
they hear it, everywhere i go.
my “please” and “thank you,” — “if you will” —
i struggle to connect, but i
am no one, really. in the still
and dark i lay and wait for dawn.
another set of heartbeats gone,
i wonder, through the white and chrome,
why god won’t take me
take me
home
Are you in the hospital? If so I hope you’re going out soon and that you are doing OK
I thought I had forgotten forever those interminable nights lying on a hospital bed but your words brought those memories back really fast
I’m not, thank goodness. This too is a memory: I was in the hospital for over a year in my twenties.
Hope you are okay!
Thank you, I am. But I wasn’t at that point in my life.
This poem is brilliant. Really gripping. xx
Thank you!
I love this one Owen. So relevant for so many during this horrible Covid-19 crisis.
I wish it was less relevant, honestly.
I ask that same question more often than I’d like to admit.
It’s a real thing.
Yes. 😢😢