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CarolineSD Mar 13
I am clinging to you like a steady rain into my palms,
On my knees, in the damp ground,
Putting my entire soul into the act of
Never dropping our love
Never letting it fall like something that is not treasured
Beyond all measure.

Your touch cascades across my face like
Rain in August, when it is
Still warm, and honest, and true
And we are bathing in a storm that is immeasurably beautiful,
Exceeding words, exceeding all of our attempts to define;
To contain it.

Our love rushes like a torrent of wild rivers to the sea
And we are blind to its source and where
it leads,
So, I am here grasping at water as it seeps through my hands,
Trying to control that which I never can.

I don’t want to lose you.

I don’t want to lose you.

I don’t want to lose you.

These doctors come and go
And the testing was good and did not show the worst
And if we monitor and test and treat
and treat and monitor and test,
I may never have to watch you
Fight for your life in a
Hospital bed.

And yet, as I sit in each, cold waiting room
I know
There is only so much we can do to break the flow
Of the rain,
When the skies open up and say,
It’s time to go.

Still, I will hit my knees in the flooding ground,
Arms locked tight around your neck,
And I will tell them, firmly, and without end:


I will fight forever for my husband. Fight for his health, his well being. Fight against a system that wants to brush people off. Fight for diagnosis and treatment. Fight against time. A losing battle for all of us. It becomes more real when a loved one has a major medical issue, but I will never give up. In sickness and in health. I will be steadfast through all of it. Wesley, I love you more than every star in the sky.
We walk among hero’s every day.
And they are recognised,
But not merely enough.
They all fight on the same team,
They don’t always have the same uniforms,
But they fight for you, out of love.
They get paid sure, just about,
But it doesn’t keep them there,
It’s their compassion.

They suffer long hours, and bad pay,
Overworked, overwhelmed,
Something we need to refashion.
Yet they continue, fighting for your health,
Mending wounds, treating disease,
Doing their all, doing what they can.
They do it with a smile, a friendly face,
They do it agile, and with grace,
Yet they’re just human, not Superman.
They’re on the frontline, hands on,
They’re behind the scenes,
Each a cog, in a massive machine.
But this machine is built by living parts,
And they’re breaking more and more,
Physically, emotionally, everything in between,
Yet they carry on.
They continue to fight.
A battle never won.
Recognised and praised,
These are our heroes,
Recognised, revered, yet still unsung.
Joining a NHS Trust in a digital team, I saw the clinical teams first hand, as well as the admin and "back" staff. I wrote this on a break. Not really Proof read it.
Steve Page Jan 2023
Her curiosity slipped in,
in silence, viewing
the clear, clean canal, exploring
the slow passings of time,
the wear and tears of years
of rough passage, ready to excise
any hint of a foreign body.

And his body lay, foetal,
while the nurse stroked his hand
assuring him the end was in sight,
but he kept still, his eyes tight shut
until she re-emerged,
and he could blink back into the light.
Over thinking the scheduling of a colonoscopy.
Word of the Challenge

I tried smiling and pretending,
Amputating my memory of your sea lover,
Simply there’s a cerulean hue when I see you,
Again thoughts of her mermaid hands on you,
Gashes a pain from my heart in ICU,
And realisation of my flatline faith in you.
It keeps reminding of that ******* the beach you kissed and I can’t be with you no longer. Goodbye.
Thomas W Case Feb 2020
Give me lazy lithium
days; soft asylum and Cheshire madness.
This sadness only
awhile, with sun burnt
smiles and ocean mist

Give me sweet Mai Tai
nights, gentle lunacy.
The Mad Hatter moon
laughs at me,
and the fog
only lasts a
little while.

Just one more time,
please stay a while.
Being crazy *****.
Gray Dawson Oct 2019
Walk into the room
Daylight is streaming in through the windows and onto the wood flooring
Blue armchairs line the walls
A chess match is set up and being played by two boys
Both kid’s arms are lined with marks
One from burns, the other from cuts

A young boy with curly hair waves me over to him
He has few scars and a softer vibe which makes me approach him
A kid with a buzzcut walks over to us as we chat
And asks why I’m here
Topple over my words like he asked what kind of kinks I’m into
I go with something like compression? Suppression? Oh right, Depression

Soon, I have my story of how I got there, what I’ve done, what *****, etc
And I’m learning that buzzcut kid was locked in his basement for days by mom
We compare abuse and suicide notes
I asked him why he’s here
He just laughed and said, “I tried to overdose. I wanted to shoot myself, but I didn’t want to waste a bullet on myself.” Miss that kid.

I’d been there about a day, before I met “Texas”
A big 5’8, dude, with glasses and some blue plaid Pyjamas
He was loud, obnoxious, but loyal, and open to talk about our issues
I was very outspoken about being trans at the time
And he was a curious man, so he always asked questions
Which I wasn’t always chill with

He was very curious about “If I still had a ******” or “If I was planning on getting testosterone”
Which I still tried to answer, but I wasn’t excited about it
He became protective of me, when we became friends
I was a very open minded dude, with a similar personality
So we clicked alright, and he helped me fight for my own rights in inpatient
He was a good guy, despite his bad qualities

And then it was only later on in that first night, that I met...well...
I’ll call him Josh, like drake and Josh, cause that’s who he always reminded me of
Josh was the only other trans guy there, who I actually didn’t know was trans
And unfortunately but understandably, he wasn’t as open with sharing as I was
He later became my roommate, before having the what we called, “The Josh-Down”
He transferred rooms and then hospitals not long after the Josh-Down

There was something about the morning’s there
Walking into the dayroom, sunlight streaming in,
Breakfast cart full and ready to be passed out
The tv on, and cartoons being shown on screen
Kids half awake, and staff barking orders
The chaotic peacefulness was always my favorite thing

I get flashes of the hospital from time to time
Like now, as I walk into a classroom with other people
For a second, I’m walking into that room again,
Buzzcut and the kid with a soft vibe are waving at me
I feel the sun streaming in from the window on my the side of my face
And the corners of my mouth curl upwards

Turn to look at the sun, and when I look back, it’s just a slowly filling classroom
I was one of the lucky few, to survive
I got to stay at my school, and I’m alive, I have a home
At least three kids from the hospital either ran away or are on the run
Two are homeless
And I can only guess for the rest

The people/kids I met in that hospital, changed me
They changed my perspective on life itself
I don’t talk about it, but the people I met, showed me another side of the world
The side no one talks about
The side where kids have scars, burns, bruises, and more
The side where kids have traumas, disorders, and urges

The hospital is a hush hush subject
But it shouldn’t be
It changed my life, and continues to impact me everyday
It’s a place to heal and grow
It’s a place where kids can get a chance at getting better
Get a chance at seeing that sunlight
Kaiden A Ward Jun 2019
Listlessly wandering
down empty hospital halls
with walls that are too white
and cold lights too bright,
but, still, in the sterile tiles,
Death's reflection lingers,
following behind,
attached to your shadow.

Until at last, a door looms on your horizon,
holding the promise of escape from
this endless maze.

Frantically running
to fall
into the soft embrace of night, to
walk the moonlit trails that twist
through the trees to the
tune of the owl's hoot and wolf pack howls,
curling down into dark, dampened earth,
seeking comfort in the knowledge
that there will
be life again.
Morrie W S Apr 2019
a dream--
a nightmare:
a trip by the campfire
a castle by the bridge.

a scream
a cry
a fleetle of flies.
& mayhaps a mellow
of peace belies.

if nightmares,
if dreams,
could thus divine--
if could remove i
a snake from my eye--

i still believe.
i still cannot lie.
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