So I wrote another poem.
I guess that’s kind of obvious though.
This one is sort of related to my cousin, but it is more about my experience of the quiet waiting room.
Let me tell you–you can spend months in a place and even say it feels like home–but still despise it and what it does to you. The hospital “family room” was simultaneously the most comfortable part of my experience and the worst part.
You know that silence that over takes a room of crowded people. That stillness in the middle of an exam when everyone is working but no one is done? Morning in a coffee shop before the first customer has ordered? Grocery stores at eleven p.m. A park at midnight. A school on a weekend in summer.
That kind of stillness. That silence.
I lived in it for weeks, months.
It was suffocating. There were times where I was worried I would breathe too loudly and disturb someone else in my family. Suffocating silence.
Well … please enjoy the poem that spawned from the discomfort of my prolonged silence.
i catch myself
w h i s p e r i n g
at least once a day. i used to
speak l o u d l y
from the heart
but now the
b e a t i n g
is timid. Spent too long in
to keep up my sound. silence
can be a f r i e n d but my
ears won’t stop ringing
& all I can hear is a
f l a t l i n e
reminding me why it’s so hard
to get out of bed in the morning
sometimes when I close
I can still feel the tense
static of stale air
pricking at the exposed skin of my arms
& tracing my throat
with t h r e a t s of disturbing the quiet
with a loud, unwelcome laugh
This isn’t the place to laugh.
I grew used to the quiet
the silence—my silence
I’m not supposed to whisper anymore—
can’t be heard over my h e a r t b e a t
but my ears are ringing with
a static flatline in an empty hospital hall.
I hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought, please. 🙂
Have a nice day, and stay safe.