That hospital where you were born,
There were rooms
All there for the same reason.
The walls that closed us in, did not stop them from entering
In rhythm you could hear them,
The anticipation building
And the jubilant cheers of arrival.
Repeat again.
Some before, some after, a big one, a little one, boy, girl, some within hours and some within minutes.
Here I am. Here you are.
Siblings of September.
Somebody waited for him too,
Somebody heard him coming.
She saw, and heard and felt the world passing by around her. Before and after.
A new mother. A new somebody.
Somebody still living remembers that day, perhaps.
Perhaps, one day unknowingly, I'll pass by a young man on the street.
A sibling of September. I was there.
In between those moments
Things happen,
A woman passes by a man on the street,
Unknowing. In March. She was there.
Unknowing. A man who cannot look at himself in the mirror, because
Things happen.
A little girl trails behind him. He was there. June siblings. They were coming.
Things happen.
Your life. A result of mine. My life. A result of yours.
Living with a man who could not live with himself.
My life. A result of yours. Her life. A result of mine.
On it goes.
I wasn't there.
The man who could not live with himself.
That hospital where you died.
There were rooms.
All there for the same reason.
The walls that closed you in, did not stop them from entering.
In rhythm you could hear them,
The anticipation building,
And the searing silence of departure.
Repeat again.
Some before, some after, young, old, man, woman, the has beens, and the have nots, some within minutes, some within hours.
There you go. There I go.
Somebody was there.
Somebody heard him say
"Not yet"
Things happen.
The man who could not live with himself.
Did not want to be anything else.
Not yet.
Things happen.
You do not get to choose,
In between those moments
Things happen.
The woman who lives with herself
Looks at herself
Would you rather be anything else?
Not yet.
Not yet.
