bits of glass, tinctured red ~
deformed metal scree(EEEE)ches
as roaring teeth attack; frantically
burnt rubber stench & muffled shouts
“stay with me,” he says, breathless ~
is all you see
before the lights dim.
is the music of the Lost;
her hand in yours on sterile white ~
about clipping your nails,
hearty smiles in picture frames,
while her hollow eyes SCREAM at me,
& she jokes
about the weather;
rain pounding against windows
and moments turn to hours.
the sky weeps for days ~
i see my deepest sigh
in her unbound, joyful tears and
those ocean eyes of yours
“welcome back,” i say, smiling ~
illuminate the room.
I used to work in an ICU as a physical therapist for a couple of years. A place of such sadness and turmoil – yet, it is also where you witness great Beauty.
Written for Fred Rutherford’s wonderful prompt about Beauty – in all its facets – over at dVerse. Grab your poem and join the fun!