Poetry

no. 18

I know why we need them,
And don't get me wrong,
I'm glad they're here,
But my memories associated with the
Green waiting room furniture
Or the elevators that make your head swim for more than one reason
The hallways that make it seem
Like you're in a dream,
A nightmare
Where the end never gets closer
The doors on either side of you
Not the ones you're looking for.
The echoing of your footsteps in the tiled hallways
The absent beeping of various machines
And the smell of antiseptic
These are the things that make my knees wobble and my eyes tear up,
In the reconciling of the fragile person
Laying in a bed
Who is supposed to be strong
So you can lean on them.
A person you've relied on and loved your entire life rendered weak by
Their own body.
And what kills me is the way someone so young had to see them this way too
And how I can see in her eyes and the way she takes my arm it hurts her to be here like it hurts me.
I can try and be nonchalant about it
Like they are now,
But I wonder if they put up a façade for us, or chose to ignore it.
Once I'm inside,
I just want to leave
This place where life is born and people are fixed, people are lost and families are damaged.
I'm damaged.
We're all damaged

---------------------------------
Looks like I should add angst to the tags of this