Hospitals and Heaven

Bone white walls, gunmetal gurneys

like serving trays on spinning wheels,

blood and sweat -- don’t forget the tears --

and the light, that awful imitation of the sun,

that turns even the rosiest face sallow.

 

There are signs on the swinging doors,

“No Admittance” and “Do Not Enter”,

but no one follows directions here,

because everyone is hiding from Catastrophe,

            (or trying to keep her at bay)

as though stilted smiles and shuffling feet

will send her to the next windowless room.

 

You are a skeleton with skin, a wounded bird

whose wings have no flight feathers, only

bent bones -- graceful and awkward --

 

Is it wrong that I find you beautiful now,

while heaven’s handmaidens wait in the corners?

 

When you speak to them, I understand why,

            even if no one else does, 

because I know the tenor of their wilted voices --

I have heard the white noise of death before.

 

Your eyes are half moons -- eclipsing --

the void is somewhere before you now,

and you reach for it as a bare-footed child

catching lightening bugs on a summer night.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

catastrophe is a her?...i knew it, i just knew it!!!...and, amen to your poem...you've got a goodly heart for seeing into things, and you take it with you wherever you go...to stand back and stand close at the same time is a zenly art

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

I think all the great pains and beauties in this life are "she's"...it's both a gift and a curse I believe. Thank you, Ed!

[Einstein Noodle]

wow! heavy sigh! chilling but then warming surrender to our own inevitable passing. your poem leaves me comforted. nice job with a subject we refuse to engage. it so baffles me we live every moment with the possibility that our next breath may be the last; but dont acknowledge it. Any time, place; and regardless of age. We are many times shocked by its abruptness; even when someone struggles with protracted illness. your description of a hospital is stark ...spot on! the reaching and the fireflies are exquisite. i was blessed to be with my father when he passed (in his own bed) he had cancer and chose not to treat it. more and more his appetite failed him and at the last he looked like a holocaust victim; he raised himself off the bed just a little and reached out his hand to something he saw...perhaps it was those fireflies and angels to lead him home.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much!

[Einstein Noodle]

love you G- Friday... (in a good way)
E.

[Rita L. Sev]

Your descriptions at first made me feel the joyless chill of the intensive care unit... so harshly vivid. But there is a resignation here... he comes for all, and we are as those fireflies, spreading our light so briefly... Your poetry always makes me feel, Sarah.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Rita. I am glad you felt what you felt...there is always beauty, even in the darkness.

[Derek Smith]

This was good I enjoyed reading it. I like the words you chose for this as well. Not just full bland words to describe but vivid pictures

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, once again, Derek!

[Rocans]

I absolutely loved this! Your use of excellent metaphors to depict impending death is amazing. Perhaps I shouldn't be as ecstatic after reading this since, because of its "eloquence of sorrow", might be an actual experience you had. But this one was great, I always find that your poems always have metaphors embedded poetically within them that it are easy to miss amidst the attractive words you use for poetry's sake. I dont know if you meant it in your allusion to lightening bugs or 'eclipsing" but they say at the instant of death one sees a brilliant light which one can decide to "reach for"

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you my friend...this one was personal to me, so I appreciate your words all the more.

[kublakhan27]

This one really struck me to the bone my friend...I was harbouring these very feelings about sixteen months ago with my Dad, and the scene you've painted is a dead ringer for the way the whole thing unfolded...I am always moved by your poetry, but I'm not sure I've ever been moved to tears before, and I'm close to that now...I'm sure this is one I will return to on a regular basis...it is all too brilliantly real.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

I'm both happy and sad you can relate to this one...it was a personal write for me. I'm glad you found something in it to relate to, and hopefully to show you that you are never alone in your feelings.

[kublakhan27]

That's what poetry is all about my friend...you have indeed shown me that, and I extend the same assurance to you.

[Robbie~xoxo~]

"Your eyes are half moons -- eclipsing --

the void is somewhere before you now,

and you reach for it as a bare-footed child

catching lightening bugs on a summer night."~ This is a fragile write...beautifully conveyed, Sarah... you have weaved a bittersweet death.... Profound~xoxo~

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, Robbie...I think death is always bittersweet.

[Robbie~xoxo~]

That, it is... and harder for the ones left behind...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is very beautiful, very sad...it's the grim reaper coming...and the welcoming of it..sometimes what's in the next world seems alluring because there is too much suffering here..

and often we don't appreciate what we have until it is nearly gone...

that is why the leaves are so beautiful in fall, just before they die...

and we appreciate them...

jacob

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, Jacob.

[Frieda P]

Rather disturbing read my friend, 'the white noise of death' really puts it all into perspective....such a sad finish, literally made me want to cry Friday, very affecting work here.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Frieda, for reading this one...it was a personal write; one of those that needed to be written, you know?

[Frieda P]

Yes I know, those literally write themselves sometimes, I hope it was cathartic for you to pen.