October 12 –Part 2
October 13, 2011 -- Fayetteville
In town
In Fayetteville
Cars come at us
From all directions
Like derailed bumper cars
Our adrenaline spikes
And mixes with the
Too strong coffee
Pulling us
Awake
We drive past
The hospital once
Past the entrance once
Past the parking garage twice
Until we find a sign
Of sorts
And here
We turn
We stumble
From the car
And wonder
Where to go now
An older man
Stops his golf cart
And offers to take us
To the entrance
His kindness
Moves us
To tears
In the golf cart
We don't speak
And the kind older man
Doesn't speak
Until he drops us off
At the main entrance
And he calls out
"I hope everything turns out well
For you.”
October 13, 2011 -- At Hospital Reception
“What do you mean
He’s not here?
He was brought in
Yesterday.
I spoke to his doctor.
I know he’s here.”
But in what sense
“He is here”
I did not know
And I so feared
That we
Already were
Too late.
October 13, 2011 -- Hospital Room
He is here
He has been found
He has no name
Just a label
“Broccoli”
A vegetable
Because he is
Non-responsive
A vegetable
My heart
clenches
And there
On the bed
He lies
A tangle of tubes
And wires
Not moving
Not responding
A vegetable
My heart clenches
Still tighter and
I cry
October 13, 2011 – Later
We pay
To take a nap
In a room
Which we do not intend to keep
And then we face the hospital
Again
He is
Awake
He is
Alert
He cannot speak
A tube is down his throat
But he can communicate
And for the first time
In twenty-four hours
We begin to feel
Some hope
Then a
Doctor
Sweeps in
A bird of prey
Dressed in white
He clutches in his hand
Film images
That he is eager
Show us
He calls us out
Away from the room
Where hope is waking
To show us the film
Of blackened
And burnt insides
From which there is no recovery
And almost certainly
Will lead
To death
The morbid
Doctor leaves us
And leaves us cold
In the room
Our brother's raises eyebrow
Asking the question
That we cannot answer
That we will not answer
How do you tell
Someone there is no hope?
You don't.
No comments:
Post a Comment