This was written after being intubated for epiglotitis. I was sick, but not as sick as most other patients in ICU. I would watch the strained faces walking past. Who were they visiting? What did they fear? Death was so close here.
And then I couldn't speak. My breath was given and taken by the equipment. I was too exhausted anyway.
A sullen grey has taken hold.
A sullen grey has taken hold.
Time is suspended in drips
and silence. Nurses
quietly maneuver, whisper
necessities. They know.
Teetering near the brink
I am held by ropes of love
and gently, gently turned
but cannot speak of this.
Do they see that I know,
my children by the bed?
Do they see that I know
