Hospital windows
reflect an iridescent sky
as colour turns to darkness.
Lights
begin to burn
in the night wards.
A helicopter
spills out stretchers
but no-one sees the wounded.
At the dimming of the lights
breathing keeps company with hope:
tomorrow’s promises are exhaled, inhaled.
Voices in the bed spaces
echo conversations from the past,
wandered souls crying in the small hours.
Hospital windows
look out over the city
as life blunders toward daylight.
Inside, the sick wait for morning.
© BH, 2022
Three days in hospital. Wisdom tooth removal. I felt I was the least impacted by ill health as night fell and tiredness overtook the ward. The sun had set vivid and red through low cloud on the horizon. The view from the sixth floor went from clear blue to a Turneresqe gloaming.
Someone in a nearby bed called out for help, not sure of where he was or even why. I read a mind-numbing novel. After a few painkillers I slept and the ward moaned on till daylight.
No comments:
Post a Comment