Waiting He lies calmly on his bed, A silent presence amidst the noise and chaos, Looking at nothing;
Perhaps thinking about the end, Soon coming,
His death, Thought not today or tomorrow, It is just coming, No longer an abstraction but something real.
Doctors come and go, Nurses arrive, gentle yet precise in their work, A parade of sorts, Without the fanfare or music, Now this, and now that, Blood taken, Other samples needed,
Blood sugar, high from infection,
Also kidneys still working but for how long?
The hours pass,
Watched the news for a while,
Read,
Prayed my beads,
A knotted rope, slipping smoothly,
In slow cadence through my fingers,
Feeling one with all those others there,
Neighbors for while,
Our worlds coming together united in the suffering of loved ones,
Or perhaps the one suffering on those beds that become torture,
After hours of waiting,
But it cannot be helped,
Busy, busy, so much sickness,
Babies crying,
A women very old crying out for help,
So much,
I continue to pass my beads,
A focus point to keep my heart centered,
Drawing all into my prayer before the Presence,
Compassionate, loving, unfelt, but there,
Traveling with each, the deep mystery of their lives. |