Emergency in two parts

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.

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10 comments

  1. May Desert Flower · February 5, 2015

    Time seems endless when you’re waiting in hospitals…hope all is well ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chrissy · February 5, 2015

      Yes, thank you…just inspired by a place and time. Everything is fine. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • May Desert Flower · February 5, 2015

        😊❤️

        Liked by 1 person

  2. jenniferflorence07 · February 5, 2015

    Takes me back to very similar moments not that long ago…a perfect description.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Norm 2.0 · February 6, 2015

    Ugh, I know this feeling all too well. You captured beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Boinkaz · April 13, 2015

    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.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chrissy · April 13, 2015

      thank you…I never wrote a song. I’m a survivor.

      Like

  5. Chrissy · February 17, 2016

    Reblogged this on Christina Strigas .

    Like

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