1.
If regular days exist
I want to have one
without trauma rooms
injections, life threatening
false alarms and real tragedies.
Spend a day in hallways
rooms which monitor
heartbeats
instead give science lessons
about the four chambers of the heart
(the heart, the body, the soul, the mind)
you just made that up, Mama
I suppose I did.
It is the nasty smell of sickness
versus Gucci floral scents
Diesel pour homme
how we fight the system
sign away organs
cry under smiles.
At least the walls are a warm beige
and the no service on my phone
gives me time
to reminisce
as my mom and aunt describe
myself at four, five, nine, sixteen
I did that?
How other people’s memories
of you
are not even your own
how family
is stuck together
in hospital waiting rooms
taking turns to eat
or smoke or think.
This is how your childhood
smacks you
with scenes
from a forgotten movie
you vaguely recall.
You made Greek coffee at nine
(wow, such an accomplishment)
as their definition of a woman
and mine clash once again.
Yet times means nothing
and memories
are a dream now
what was real, invented,
told to you
what you are doing
in a hospital for twelve hours
when there is absolutely nothing
medically wrong with you
so I write some poems
about moments
slipping away.
2.
Working at a hospital at sixteen
does open up your heart
toughen your soul
evolve your mind
wear out your body
and all that smoking
in staircases discussing the importance
of art
theories
writers
seemed like Nelly and I
would change the world
with our artsy degrees
idealism in science
what a fucked up
paycheck.
Lest I forget him,
how he knew where to find me
when I hid
and took me to every quiet
nook
to ravish me
and wake up parts of me
my young heart
still searches for.
Sitting in a waiting room
is not
my favorite place
but we must
do it
the only thing left to do
is remember
think some more
remember some more.
Say goodnight, good morning
find patience and vending machines
coffee moka awful blends
sour cream and onion chips
suddenly there are no candy bars
going crazy looking for snickers
remember the way
back form the cafeteria
memorize letters
get lost in basements
ask at least two strangers
for directions
and count my change.
Say good night again.
And start over.
Comments:
9
Time seems endless when you’re waiting in hospitals…hope all is well <3
Yes, thank you…just inspired by a place and time. Everything is fine. 🙂
Takes me back to very similar moments not that long ago…a perfect description.
Thank you Jennifer!
Ugh, I know this feeling all too well. You captured beautifully.
Thank you. I feel like so many people are in the same boat!
how we fight the system/sign away organs.
Chrissy, it looks like you’re going through some tough times–I wish you well. BTW, those are excellent lines for a song.
thank you…I never wrote a song. I’m a survivor.
Reblogged this on Christina Strigas .