In this hospital
they can't see the future
they can't see the past
they can't touch the movement
of the present
and invisible white lines
are stretched out
where silence and stillness
and the scent of teacups lingers
when we turn the doorknob
I open a book of poetry on the table
lines of the world of healing
the words wriggle out
and come out of the book
and design the future
and bring the past out
and turn on the light
the bell of healing is pealing.