Time is as long and cold as winter here,
bar clock stretching out
each clunking ticking second
as if it were life’s final hour,
There is eternities of silence;
a silence in which to contemplate,
be horrified, be puzzled by
why fate has dealt this cruel blow.
He lies there;
all eighteen stone plus of him,
lost beneath the sheets
as he tries to figure out the unfigurable,
his mind naught but a tangled mess.
opposite our lonely frightened giant –
wheelchair accommodates another ragged doll,
left arm lolling over side as dead as hope.
His right hand clicks on-off brake,
giving rhythm to his ennui.
His son (who left oh he doesn’t know how long ago)
hears own footfalls splat on shiny floor,
wipes tears away from bleary reddened eyes,
wishes he could turn back that damn ticking clock;
wishes he could erase his cruel jibes of yesterdays.
Our giant –
now so tiny as to be invisible
sinks into soothing nothings of inertia.
Across from the bay –
almost a million miles away –
the nurses/doctors write their notes,
chunter/chatter, live their lives
as their patients’ yearn, long for
welcome intimacy of spoon-fed slop
dribbling down their drooping mouths,
dream of friendly smiles and friendly words.
Until then, invisible,
there is only the interminable ticking of the clock.
Mary at dVerse has us writing of invisibility and my little effort is of observations made yesterday.
Of late I have been a bad girl and not visited, read or commented on everyone entries to dVerse’s excellent prompts, so in a sense I have been partly invisible...
If I missed you - apologies – but sometimes real life gets in the way and must take priority. Should be able to read all entries of this prompt – fingers crossed!
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons