Sometimes I write poetry: Hospital Walkers

Hospital Walkers

We always park on the side road,

get out of the car and wait for each other.

We walk together

up the street

past the yellow two story house

with the white front porch and the red shutters.

“I like that house.”

I say it every time.

 

We rush to cross at the intersection

before the little white man disappears.

Sometimes we wait

for him to return,

eyes fixed on the orange hand,

silent,

as rows upon rows of cars drive by

in rush hour time;

the impatient commute

home.

 

We walk up the ramp to the main entrance:

single file,

keep right.

I make eye contact with a bleary-eyed woman,

a young man linked in her arm.

Her son, I think.

He turns his reddened face away

aware that the stain of his grief is on display.

 

First one set of doors opens

through which people pass.

It’s a liminal space

between those doors,

markedly quiet.

 

We approach the automatic revolving door,

perpetually turning people in and out,

inside out.

The portal to a different world

where minds are lost in familiar bodies

or where bodies have resolved to decompose

while their great characters still grope

for something,

something nameless,

something that we don’t have,

that we can’t give.

 

We know the women and men in scrubs

by name.

We play their game.

Entangled in a net of tubes

his body lies.

A cruel or good disguise?

I don’t know him

save when I close my eyes.

He speaks.

His voice.

Am I here in vain?

I hear my name.

Our father.

Advertisements

2 comments on “Sometimes I write poetry: Hospital Walkers

  1. Per Signum says:

    ***or where bodies have resolved to decompose

    while their great characters still grope

    for something,

    something nameless,

    something that we don’t have,

    that we can’t give.***

    These are my favourite lines.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s