Waiting for News
Waiting for News
My head breaks open
Or is it my heart?
And little white pearls
Come spilling out.
They pour over the
Hard tile floor
Of the ICU waiting room
And roll into dark corners.
The dark corners of my heart
Of my hopes. Of my breaking
My breaking, or broken
My head. Or is it my heart?
Nov. 10 and 29, 2008
My head breaks open
Or is it my heart?
And little white pearls
Come spilling out.
They pour over the
Hard tile floor
Of the ICU waiting room
And roll into dark corners.
The dark corners of my heart
Of my hopes. Of my breaking
My breaking, or broken
My head. Or is it my heart?
Nov. 10 and 29, 2008
posted by Betsy McKenzie at
4:55 PM
2 Comments:
This is a draft of a poem I started writing while in the waiting room of the ICU at Beth Israel. My daughter Alexa came home from college supposedly with mononucleosis. But she turned out to have septicemia, toxic shock & meningitis. The wonderful folks at the ICU saved her life, I am sure. But it was a terrifying place and time. What an intrusive, traumatizing kind of medicine!
By
Betsy McKenzie, at 2:52 PM, December 09, 2008
Oh very good, you.I think it was definately your heart!
By
Anonymous, at 4:15 PM, April 15, 2009
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