Interminable

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.

Across there–

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,

breaks silence,

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.

Anna :o]

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    

Author: Brakspear