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

[Leigh]

I can feel those poor souls slipping away, floating up to heaven and into the loving arms of a handmaiden, thats a lovely touch by the way 'heaven’s handmaidens', I would like one of those to help out around the house. There is a huge contrast between the cold, sterile, unfeeling hospital wards and the ethereal feeling of a spiritual journey and you have captured both so well.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, my friend!

[Lydia Shutter]

Oh my goodness, Sarah, you brought me back to not only my mother's last few days, but my cousin's. We sit at the bedside....not sure if they know we are there....listening to them breathe and the machines beep...the rhythm is soporific. Those we love are there, but look quite different. They speak to the ones who have left years earlier and beg them to let them escape. Do they turn into children again? In many ways, yes. Monumentally moving poetry, Sarah. I am keeping this one. Lydi**

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Lydi...there is sadness in the end, but also beauty. I'm glad you saw that in this piece!

[Jack...]

This one brought tears to my eyes, some sad, some happy. I received a call yesterday about a good friend who is in the hospital and they don't expect her to make it. I went to visit her yesterday. I saw these bone white walls and the gunmetal gurneys and a friend, who is not very old but looked as though she had walked this earth far too long. It was extremely sad to see. She was sedated and had no idea I was there, though that is only an assumption on my part. I do not expect to talk to her again, at least where she responds to me. So my heart is filled with sadness, but the ending to your poem this day, like a barefoot child catching lightening bugs on a summer night, changed those tears from sad to happy. Though I do not wish to lose my friend, seeing the state she is in, picturing her as a barefoot child did make me smile. Very nicely penned my friend and definitely timely.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

I'm both happy and sad that this read found you today, Jack...I'm terribly sorry about your friend. I've been in too many hospitals in my life; watched too many people go this way, and it is strange how in the end there always seems to be a curtain of peace...or such has been my experience. I hope you are doing okay...sending love.

[KAin]

Beautiful work. The imagery of your poetry is always so vivid!

Therr's a very brittle melancholia to the entire poem. The images are sepia-toned except where bone and blood show in your words.
Exceptional work as always.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Landred...I'm glad this one made an impact on you.

[shallimarRose]

"You are a skeleton with skin, a wounded bird
whose wings have no flight feathers, only
bent bones -- graceful and awkward --"

Powerful poem Sarah. I have spent many hours and days in the emergency rooms with mother the past 8 or 9 years. The sterile but not really sterile feel still deep in my memory. You really hit it spot on with those swinging door signs that no one listens to. A moving piece. Thank you for the rr.. Rose

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Rose...I'm both happy and sad that you can relate to this one. I have spent far too much time in hospitals, with my grandparents, friends, other family, and they all seem to be the same in a way. I hope that I portrayed the place aptly.

[K. Louis]

You had me at the beginning. Powerful imagery here in this Sarah..all the way to the very end. Well done.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, K. Really appreciate your words on this one, and that you felt something in the reading.

[Pryde Foltz]

I volunteered in a palliative care ward or so many years ago. This brings back that feel. So much suffering and yet so many cling to life. Death is a comfort and remaining under those harsh light still another. There is not easy answer, only love and suffering. I definitely feel the love of his piece. A truly beautiful write, Sarah.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Pryde. I'm glad you felt the love and not just the tinge of saddness that usually comes along with this subject matter. You are a beautiful soul, my friend.

[Pryde Foltz]

And you. Thank you, Sarah.