*** Random Poetry Anyone? ***
the walls aren’t white
i always thought they would be white,
but instead they’re blue or pink or green
with a pretty border right along the top of the wall,
just under the ceiling.
nurses don’t wear white either.
maybe because it gets dirty.
maybe because they don’t want you to know where you are.
they wear teal or pink, with bright designs and prints.
some wear blue.
you’re wearing blue today.
you’ve worn blue every day.
i don’t think that you’ve changed because i think
that it hurts when they move you.
i wonder if you like all of the flowers all over your room
and the balloons that say “happy birthday grandma”
or if they make you sad because you’re here.
i wonder what goes on inside of you as i look at all of the
tubes going in and out and watch you close
your eyes tightly as the pain gets worse
and you reach for the button
and push it
and get a stream of pain medication flowing into you.
i guess it doesn’t matter how often you push the button.
it won’t be much longer now.
you tell me that it’s not morphine because
that makes you see pink people and pink balls
and you’d rather not.
you can still make me smile and laugh even though
on the inside i’m crying.

i wish i had words to say to you.
i’m not used to such silence.
you were always asking about my family and about school,
telling me stories about when he was a little boy
running around your house scaring the cats and breaking things.
stories about your mother
and about people i’ve never met that have fascinating lives.
you have had a fascinating life too.
you cared for your mother until she died just three years ago.
you mothered two children
and now have four grandchildren, one just born last year.
i wish you could be alive to see us get married.
i wish you could be alive to play with your great grandchildren.
i wish i had spent more time with you when you were alive.
you’re alive now,
but it’s not the same.
when you were healthy you would always
ask me to come see you
and i would smile and agree and i always
meant to but i would never make it.
now i can make it,
but it’s not the same.

they’ve sent you home today.
away from the not-white nurses in their not-white hallways and bedrooms.
back to your house and your husband.
you just got married five months ago.
i want to come see you today,
but i don’t know what to talk about.
the weather isn’t nice.
it’s raining.
you were always the one to ask me questions
so that i didn’t have to think of things on my own.

he cried for the first time yesterday.
i can’t imagine being the one to tell you.
but he did it, and he’s been strong until now.
until they sent you home from the hospital
because there’s nothing more that they can do.

i want to give you this poem,
but i’m afraid that you won’t understand.
that it will make you sad.
and that it will put you in pain.

it’s cold and raining outside.
i’m wearing blue today.
but you get to change.

      ( 3/16/2004 09:05:00 AM ) Lisa#

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Poetry is cool. So are short stories. Care to join in on the rantings? Email me at lmalo7fc@mwc.edu

what the hell is this?:
Welcome to Random Poetry, a page for amature poets to post their work for review by other amature poets. It doesn't matter what type, genre, etc. it is, as long as you feel like calling it poetry feel free to post it, and to comment on other's poetry. We can all learn from each other.

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