Thursday, April 19, 2012

Another Time Yet Maybe

It might be her someday.
You might be the one bedside
Waiting hard for that brief glint
Of like before, Smiling
To show you know
Worse is possible
And luck is palpable, but
Just like hell tearing inside
Rip the walls scream fire
And tribute switch and
Justice and FUCK.

You will have to remain calm.
You will have to see the tubes
And wires and bedsheets and remember
The feeling, the loneliness
And the monotonous inability.
You are the one now to speak
And note and negotiate
And dig and beg for information and courtesy
And remember when they don't
And remind them this is not
Our job. We do not see this
Everyday. Please just
Treat her with some sense
Of sensitivity. This is not
Her fault. Please just
Explain it and answer
Those questions I do not know
to ask. I am not
a professional.

The ceaseless intermittent beep.
The rushing wheels off kilter
In the hallway. The saturated air
With fresh and stinging cleanser.
The needles. The tape.
The warm, plastic urinal. The stiff
And faded curtains. This
Thick, closing aura of nothing you
Want or want to be again
That hangs on every word
And pitying gaze.
Her skin still so soft. Her eyes.

You must look into her eyes
And declare the truth:
You are here bedside waiting;
You will be here with towels
And bedpans and ask her to
Sip just a little more broth, she
Needs it. You will keep her away
From paperwork and signatures
And dollar amounts. You will
Be there calm and ready
Despite the grinding existential
Panic, despite the lurking breakdown
Horror, despite the racing
Flashback specter solid behind
Your eyes. You will be there
And know she needs you to.

You needed her
And she sat waiting, running
Straining, crying, pushing,
Asking, forcing, feeding,
Figuring out and never thinking
Not to. There are truths
Greater than what has been done
To you to anyone, than what
Has been taken or dismantled.
There are truths stronger
Than nightmares and visions
And never agains soaking
Through the pillow case
In the still gray space before
Dawn. There are jagged,
Twisting truths that scream
The ineptitude of creation
And the glory
Of barefaced humanity.
No matter what there is you
And her and your choice
At every step, nothing
Else, nothing less.

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