Hospital Thoughts

For my father:

Through yonder window breaks

The boy

Kneeling at the bedside table

A prayer

Somewhere in the midst

Of life,

The feet of death hang

In grayscale

Monument of the quiet man’s strength

A shroud

Over hope, the sing-song memory

It perseveres

Through white-coat salutations

Their assurance

Little comfort in the night’s long hour

Laid out

When he is naught but dreams

A longing

Night’s crystal rain

The watch

He is the only one, he tells himself

That sees

The wrinkles and the lines, in pallid sheets

The world

If he can make it through the night—

Slow breaths—

Hope will find them in the dawn.

My father and mother, seen here at my brother's wedding rehearsal.

My submission to this week’s One Shot Wednesday, and one that holds a special place with me. I wrote this a few days ago when, if you will remember, I was caught in the throes of a massive worry in my own life, revolving around my ailing father. Since then, he has undergone surgery and is apparently recovering now…and while that recovery time will be long, it is still a comfort to know that he will be better again.

This work revolves mostly around the feelings of waiting, the uncertainty, the hoping…the great pain that comes with watching and being unable to do anything in those long nights.