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With bated breath you sit and wait
Anticipate, Anticipate
No mention of futility as
The time will come to celebrate
Minutes pass, then hours too
You wring your hands and join the cue
To be told that there is nothing new
When there is, someone will come to you
Exhaustion comes, exhaustion goes
You cross your fingers and your toes
Pace the halls and bite your lip
Praying good will come of it
They come and cry, express their sorrow
He’s not yet gone, can’t they wait till tomorrow?
Build your walls to block all this
Find the comfort saught in a dark abyss
With furrowed brows they look at you
Offer empathy and sympathise
Brimming eyes show depth of emotion
Arms are wrapped ‘round you in a show of devotion
Palid skin and hollowed eyes
Tubes and cords of every size
Indelible in its propensity
A garish image one should never have to see
He lays and rests, oblivious
The bright green lines record his breaths
You try to speak - the words won’t flow
A knock on the door says it’s time to go
Blindly reaching for the door
Emotion makes a sudden move to score
Your saving grace, the little girl
Who looks for you to assure all is well
You quash the pain and swallow tears
Hold her close and stem her fears
The mother weeps and father cries
Still like a babe behind the door he lies
You venture in, composed once more
The small girl’s cry rips straight to the core
A little voice begs that he open his eyes
At least show some sign that he’s still alive
You sit and wait…anticipate
There will be no cause to celebrate
Futility against all odds
Turned around and won the toss
You express your love and say your prayers
Waiting for the inevitable…still hoping for a miracle
A whispered sigh and one last tear
Signal that the time is near
You shed your tears as the long beep sounds
May his spirit rise above the clouds
A scene too often repeated daily. One thing about life, we don't get out of it alive. Most of us have experienced this time of sorrow in which you write so eloquently and we can readily identify with this poem. Excellent!!
What a sad piece, essie.
the moment of death, in the hushness of the hospital, within the mind of a troubled soul.
U bring the reader right into the core of your thoughts, and very starkly done too, i must add.
No title for this ?
How about Anticipation ?
Smilesz.
I have enjoyed myself in your hall, essie.
Tis great to know another poet here.
Hope u have a nice day there.
and seeya around my hall, soon and again ~!~
;)