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fdelano

A Child Cries

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fdelano

A Child Cries

 

As I walk along the polished vinyl squares

and pass the open doors, I want to stop

and see if I can help, knowing that others

know better than I. Except empathy, perhaps.

 

People unseen through cracked doorways

moan or snore or sleep silently, none well.

They come or are brought because those

at home cannot heal or care for them.

 

I think of the collective misery emanating

from both sides of the aisle and it seems

to gather into a hell, and I want to run,

sensing I may be among them soon.

 

So organized, on schedule with pills

and shots and catheters and bedpans,

meals on trays ignored by those who

cannot stand the smell of food.

 

Some maimed and slung in plaster

suspended at angles, those who lie hour

after hour trying to remember what happened,

wondering where are the others.

 

I abort my appointment and flee.

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dcmarti1

Hard and gripping title. The images ARE the words and the words ARE the images.

 

Culture impact: The line

 

abort my appointment and flee.

 

made me think of the Eagle's Hotel California, "You can check out any time you like but you can never leave."

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