fdelano Posted January 12, 2012 Share Posted January 12, 2012 A Child Cries As I walk across the polished vinyl squares and pass the open door, I want to stop and see if I can help, but know that others can help more 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 I want to run from, 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. Soldiers 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. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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