I sit in a very comfortable chair.
Tubes in my arm administering meds
with unpronounceable names.
A large and inviting window to my right
welcomes the sunlight,
letting the day enter without resistance.
Suddenly, a small bird strikes the window outside
startling me out of my cloak of anxiety!
I have no way to see
if it survived the collision,
connected to all manner of machines,
as I am, with beepers and chimes.
If it did recover, I know it was probably stunned at first.
Trying to understand what happened to it.
I'm pulling for this creature to fly again!
If it has persevered, collecting its thoughts
and regaining its ability to understand
what it can become once more,
I cannot imagine more important strengths
to have in common today,
shared now with a confederate with wings.
Comments
Beautifully told
I hope your confederate with wings is ok. I hope you’re ok too. You’re way of telling this story is conversational in tone and I think for the events contained within, that is very appropriate. Things happen and feelings come and go like the tides “under a senseless moon” as Bukowski put it. Sometimes we just talk about these events to makes sense of others.
Wishing you well,
Tim
Thank you Tim. Doing okay,
Thank you Tim. Doing okay, and really appreciate you stopping by and commenting, and Bukowski too - love it!
Best
Window Seat
Hello, Michael,
Sometimes I am amazed with the timing of such instances, and what it gives to us. Your empathy here is inspiring. The title is perfect.
Take good care,
L
A rare poem written while at
A rare poem written while at a hospital perhaps? All good, and thank you for your always thoughtful comments!
Best