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Ma Cherie Jun 2016
I sat inside a hospital bay
in the usual uncomfortable hospital beds
feeling exposed....and cold
as they brought in a woman
who was convulsing...
my fears shifted

She was on a moving stretcher
there must have been 12 people in tow
doctors nurses and others
It's hard to remember who was straddling her chest
as they pushed the rollaway gurney
trying to revive her
I think it was an EMT..
remember his sturdy legs in dark Navy pants &  shirt with some
sort of medical cross in white
above his heart...
I just really remember this look
of sheer panic on his face

From the amount of police officers
and security guards
I could only surmise that she
was in some kind of other trouble
than just her physical distress.

At the time I was having some difficulties
with my heart and this situation did not make it any better.
I kind of felt like I was having a serious panic attack...
or that I might even have a heart attack
I really hadn't heard anything about my own condition...or cause

I just tried to breathe
the sounds around me
of machines beeping and voices yelling
so many lights flashing
the doctor pounded on her chest
...literally
trying put a tube in her throat...
attempting to force open lips that remained sealed
I felt like they were  
trying to push that airway in me....

as they worked on her behind that curtain
like The Wizard of Oz
I really couldn't see
they were trying to get a line
her veins too thin and collapsed
the sound of drilling her bone....
in her thigh...
I cupped my ears
as the tears rolled from our eyes
unable to get the medicine in any other way
I had never heard of such a method
I really wasn't eavesdropping
but I was completely drawn in

Narcon I think that's what it was called ...
that's the medicine they gave her.
Apparently it can bring you back
from the brink of death....
I was grateful that they had it for her.

As it turns out she was holding some drugs in the prison for a controlling cellmate
It was coercion and extortion
This so-called drug dealing badass chick
who made her hold the drugs
knew she had money on the outside
and dearly made her pay for it
from the sounds of it
the girl bedside me knew that she was going to be caught with whatever she had been forced to hold...
she was trying to roll a joint in the bathroom...
innocent enough for Prison
when she heard a couple guards talking and coming
it seemed this ...getting caught,
each pill a seperate offense
would be a worse offense than death ...
I thought...for her
So she swallowed an entire wax encapsulated ball of pills
Barely able to choke it down....
knowing it had been brought in by a mule
desperation won

As she slowly stopped convulsing and became dimly awakened
somewhat, aware.... felt like we all finally started to breathe
Nurses and others applauded...relief veiled the room

She was up....then WAY up
I guess you would say she was high
From the drugs and from being out of the prison I suspect

She was scared and crying and my heart went out to her.
She was confused and rambling
unsure of all the different pills inside the Wax Ball trying to recount
asking if she was going to die
Begging not to
to the doctors ...the officers as they were asking her "what did you take honey...come on?"
Over and over....looking in her eyes with a flashlight... as her spirit tried to fade but her body and soul just would not let her go yet.

After a bit of time she started to be more coherent and my heart started to feel less like it was going to burst.

I was so upset by the turn of events
that I really wanted to move to another room  
my nerves were just so terrible
  but the nurse said that people were literally lined up in the hallways .
She asked if I'd prefer that in a snarky tone... I said "no, of course not"

I asked for help  to unplug my equipment
then I went to the bathroom
our eyes met ...hers and mine
for a moment...a quick glance
of some mutual pain and understanding
and we smiled at one another.
I don't think it was difficult
for either one of us
I was looking for an escape to go to the bathroom
from my pain and problems
and get away from this mess
this noise
and she definitely was looking for a way out of her situation
we found calm and comfort in sharing...connecting

She wasn't young enough to be my daughter ...
I think she might have been about 36 or 37
but I thought about that possibility....
she had no family there
and that made me sad
I too was alone
I believe she knew
that I had compassion and true empathy for her
I saw that in her kind and sad blue grey eyes
and I think she saw that in mine....or I hope so

She was not formally educated
but she was quite intelligent and articulate....
She was quite proud of her studies while doing time....
she had a wonderful plan and how she was going to get her children back and a job as a hair stylist.
She had long golden strawberry wheat colored hair

She told how she had been in prison for 7 years away from her children... drugs that got her into Prison and drugs brought her to this Hospital this night

She told over and over
the story of this controlling cellmate
and how this whole turn of events that happened.
All because of drugs mostly.... she owned it
she knew that she used drugs to escape her life before  
and she had taken so many wrong turns
the last charges she received were for "walking off"
from house arrest... she ran... with nowhere to really run.
Now there was this...

She was friendly with the guards
they knew her well and most of them treated her decently,
calling her by her last name only
The one guard was constantly by her side and joking,
reassuring her that she would be fine.
Well there was another guard who was not so friendly,
when she was convulsing he had a smile on his face...
chuckling even....maybe out of fear...
I hoped that.... more than hate
It troubled me in ways I can't really describe.
I think he thought she deserved it.
Maybe there's others that might read this
that might think the same thing...
I do not know.

For me....I don't know her whole truth...her story...
..and I don't know how she got there
I don't know what her childhood was like
or even her young adulthood before she ended up there... I know the complexities of my own life
and except for the broken shattered pieces that she started to share
I don't know what happened in that prison either ....
not really
and my Father told us that
we should love everyone unconditionally
and so that's how I practice and live my life.

You could see her deep sadness and true regret ...
in the lines on her face
yet I also saw hope.. in her eyes and I heard it in her voice

The hours that she spent there were like heaven to her.
She got drinks and food that she would not get in prison...company of new people and a chance to feel normal whatever she perceives normal to be

she laughed nervously with the guards but I could tell that she was sort of excited to be out.
Maybe she took the drugs just so she could get out and breathe the air for just a moment.
I wondered about all the motives one might have
She said that it was because she felt she was going to get caught
but as the story went on ....
she further detailed
after the guards came into the bathroom
and found nothing
she went back and sat at a table with a few other cellmates
and waited to see what was going to happen
maybe she didn't think the drugs would seep through the wax
Or maybe they would have a slow delivery and she would just be high again
or maybe she did know
I don't think she wanted to die but just desperately wanted out
She knew that this badass chick
was going to want money for those pills
she had asked to be moved back to Delta
where she liked it....
she said she was clean there
Apparently she complained over and over and even told them what this girl was doing
She told them that she was going to be a victim in this new unit
she did not want to be there
no one was listening

I was still lying in the bed when they finally strapped her in and decided to take her back to the prison
I was kind of sad to see her go to be honest
because she wasn't completely stable
Physically or emotionally
And I don't really think she belongs there
I guess they don't worry so much about prisoners
And as she left
she had this look of longing that she wished she could trade places with me and she didn't even know what was wrong
that I was there for something wrong with my heart
I think even if it was cancer she would have traded

We again exchanged warm smiles again, an acknowledging nod
and we both added a small wave...
I think knowing
we would probably never really see each other again

My friend who had been absent
Who finally decided to come
and see how I was doing
said "do you know that girl?" and I said "no I don't we haven't even talked." I think he was puzzled....

Actually we both were there with something wrong with our hearts...
and I will probably never forget her face
I will pray for her, her families and her children
her children's children
that they can break the cycle of abuse, dysfunction and unhappiness
I am 100% certain that it's possible
I've done it in my own life
and my family's life
though some things are not always so probable

I wish it was contagious...
that she could have caught it there at the hospital but it's really something you have to dig deep to find
You have to want it more than living
More than dying
I'm not sure we ever find our ideal life or blissful happiness...
Most of us endure a lot of suffering
I have let it grip me before
though I am satisfied with being content
in my life... grateful in every moment
anything more really is a true blessing

So upon reflection
I guess again it just helped me to reinforce that every single part of life cannot be taken for granted.
The air that we breathe
the food that we eat
the music that we listen to
and dance to
the kind smile of a stranger
in a hospital bed next to you
a sad poetic story
Or one of Hope
Being able to drive to the store or walk home if you would rather
Sharing time with your family and friends and everything else it's beautiful in the world.
If I ever think my life is too much
just so bad
I always try to think about those who have it so much worse than I do
Although sometimes if I do that it's too much to bare
To think of genocide and children starving
Even if I only have a few dollars sometimes

I do this not only to gain insight ...review hindsight and if I'm lucky have some foresight in my future
or to protect myself from those potential tragedies happening in my life or in my family's life....

it is more about the fact
that I need
WE....need
to be aware
all the time
the people around us are suffering
and there are little things we can do to make their days better like those smiles and the wave we shared....

I carry her smile with me and I hope she carries mine with her.
I was really pretty scared but somehow that smile and wave was comforting and I hope it comforted her too.
The irony was that she was due to get out within a couple months so I again pondered whether she was institutionalized and wanted to actually stay.
I hope not though because she seemed so kind and so optimistic under such distressing circumstances.
If she had to stay I'm glad she had a moment to breathe the air outside her Prison Walls again even if it was just for a moment
And I sure hope she got the hell away
from that bad *** chick
who just wanted to bring her down

Cherie Nolan © 2016
This was not a real recent visit to the hospital but it did happen just a true story I wanted to share it's all I could manage for today thanks for reading
Brian Goosen Jun 2016
Two weeks blended in & past,  
With the shock withered away.
I now wake up to feel numbness,
From my life that took a turn on dark day.

Your being subsists away from me now;
This drapes down a dramatically dark cloud.
Black showers pour down relentlessly;
the pelts purposely piercing with intention to take me down.

Then I wake up & enjoy the stare,
Directly into the Devil's eye.
Yelling at the ******* to ******* & go,
My hardened look shows it’s not my turn to die.

I made you a promise on dark day,
As my tears poured down on your corpse.
With each forehead kiss I formed my everlasting promise,
& this promise will help fill the void.

Now I'm expected to move on,
from the hell-stain on dark day.
Assumed to presume society's game,
& To pretend I want to be here to stay.

The distance between us feels like an eternity.
From my insight I've come to see,
That all forms of communication are cut off,
As I feel seclusion thereof from she.

I never thought this reality could be true.
Stuck with a vivid comprehension of what used to be you.
Mesmerized from what I could have done,
While hoping I could still help you push on through.

Yet here we are today,
Entirely & forevermore.
The unsettled truth that dark day provided,
Has left me in wonderment and severely sore.

I'm sad to say this really is good-bye.
The last time I saw you alive we met with each other in the eye,
I cried with you to get help;
Although in that moment I knew you were going to soon die.
This is my darkest write, which contains my true emotions two weeks after my mother passed. RIP to you mom, I love you more than anything and will strive everyday to keep my promise to you.
-df May 2016
I have a hard time believing in love,
yet I still choose to let the thought creep in the back of my mind.

I believe love makes people act in foolish ways,
they seem to forget that the world keeps spinning.

I don't want unconditional love.

I don't want to be loved in a way that isn't fair.
I don't deserve to get away with my ruthless flaws.

I need someone to tell me when I'm wrong.
I need someone to make me see that there's more than one way.

I don't need pity where it isn't deserved.
I don't want to hurt someone who has let me into their heart.

I need raw and honest love to keep me sane.

(-DF-05/27/16-)
This poem was inspired by Beau Taplin's: Unconditional Love.
Sindi Kafazi May 2016
Love, love, love
It runs so deep like the roots of a tree
Connecting together

A flower attracting a bee

Love, love, love
Runs so deep
Heals you and cleans you
The way alcohol does a wounded knee

Love, love, love
You will see
When my gramma looks at me

Love, love, love
smells so good
My grammas  baked goods
My grammas pillow case
My grammas hair
And her whole face

Love, love, love
It's everywhere
From the smile formed with her lips
And the softness of her strong gramma hips
To the apron that she wears
And the so tantalizingly familier scent my mother shares

Because

Love, love, love
Paves the way
It will never lead you astray


Love, love, love
It runs so deep like the roots of a tree
It is embedded in you the way it's embedded in me

Love, love, love
Has us entangled
From the inside of beating hearts
To the dirt under the earth.
Love, love, love my gramma
Michelle Garcia May 2016
There exists an abundance of neglected apologies stuck lodged at the back of my throat that remind me of how much I have forgotten the sensation of breathing deeply since you have. Words, how flimsy and inadequate, form into lethargic shapes that sit helplessly in the stomach and desire only to matter to you. I have painted for you a golden sky that stretches beyond horizons that can no longer be noticed by the naked eye and I guess we have both grown tired of prowling the heavens for potential endings.

I have seen dandelions sprout freely within the dimple on your cheek and I wonder how you can go on so casually convincing yourself that you are not made of sunshine. I have felt lightning channel through your fingertips far too many times to believe it is just an illusion you have designed to make the dark clouds feel a little less intimidating.

There is a certain danger embedded within the comforting blanket of safety. I want to tell you I am sorry that the metaphors and lines of poetry I have crafted will never begin to describe even the smallest fraction of your limitless importance. I am sorry that my words cannot make you see the icicles that form in my bloodstream when your tears whisper that you are exhausted of being alive. I want to shout I love you, I love you, I love you, why can't YOU love you? until I run out of air in my lungs, the chords of my voice continuing to strum the same promise inside and out until it forgets the tune. But doing so is impossible, because your soul is an old song that cannot be removed from the brain once it is stuck and I am so sorry, my love, that yours has lost the memory of innocence.

I am a broken vinyl record spinning the same expired words over and over again, hoping your tomorrow will be void of pain so that there will be enough leftover space for you to listen.
Though I haven’t loved someone
Like a husband and wife
Love each other
I know what I want in love
What my definition of love is

When I fall in love
I will love all the small things he does
The little things he says
The quirks and bad habits
Nervous habits
I will love how he treats other people
How he interacts
If he’s quiet or outgoing
I will love how he knows who he is
Throughout all of it
I’ll love how he holds my hand
Whenever he can
Little glances across the room
And conversations
With our eyes
I will love how he understands me
The good and bad
And how I understand him
I will love him
Because he loves me
In love I don’t want to agree on everything
That would make life boring
But I want to be able
To agree on our love for each other
And that it can get us through

When I’m in love
I know it won’t be perfect
It will be hard
But I want the chance
To love someone
With all I am
And for them
To do that in return

So when I am old enough
To really understand love
I hope I’ll remember this poem
And find someone
To love unconditionally
Perfect or not
dreams for the future I suppose
Cyrus Gold Apr 2016
There once was a boy, well an usher, in truth
who had worked long hours, lack of sleep was the proof.
It was a quaint little spot, never left an impression,
but customers were lively, while in line for concession.

It was always full of people, conversations were numerous,
but the usher was always so down, he never found one humorous.
The theater was packed, full of laughter and grins.
but the noise was so loud that his patience wore thin.

Among the crowd and chatter was a man,
a simpleton at best, balding and in need of a tan,
who presented his ticket to the usher
with such joy that no one could understand.

The usher greeted him, but his curiosity got the best of him.
"Excited for this film?", the usher asked him.
"Oh I'm killing some time but thank you for asking".
The usher wondered why the man was so excited.

"I'm going on a date with my beautiful wife,
the most wonderful woman I've met in my life.
Lobster ravioli in Rosée with wine,
that is always her favorite when we go out and dine."

"Sounds delicious", said the usher, finally cracking a smile.
No customer had shown so much excitement in a while.
“I should have enough time to get her a gift,
but on to the movie so enjoy your shift.”

As the man walked into the theater, the usher had a refreshed start;
he had that man to thank for bringing life to his heart.
As the movie finished running, the man left in a hurry.
The usher thanked the man for coming,
“Gotta go - it’s past 6:30!”

A boy walks towards the usher, asking if he’s seen a man.
He described him the same, “Balding, needing a tan.”
"The movie had finished around 6:40.
He’s going on a date-"
The boy stops him.
“He told you that story?”

The usher, clearly confused, nodded his head.
The boy wasn’t happy, but worried instead.
“That man is very ill, and I'm sorry for the confusion.
He tells people this tale as his mind rests on delusion.”

The usher is stunned, almost demands to see proof,
alas the boy doesn’t hesitate to tell him the truth.

The last time the man saw his wife,
he reserved two for eight,
But then something odd happened-
she never showed for that date.

Her body became ill, and also weakened her soul,
so she lost that great battle around three years ago.
When she begged "let me die", he contested, said no,
and his mind ever since has refused to let go.

The usher then asks, "then where is he going tonight?"
"Well his loss is a truth that his mind always fights."
He orders a glass of wine, while also clutching the menu.
And he's there often enough that he's a regular at the venue.

So he waits two hours, maybe less, maybe more,
while he prays to his maker that she walks through the door.
He later goes home to sleep, her absence never how it seemed,
and is convinced the next morning it was all just a dream.

Again, and again, he reserves two for eight,
with his heart tricking his mind to prepare for his date.

“I could tell him the truth,
but I choose not to bother,
I can’t bear to see that pain again,
in the eyes of my father.”

That man is this boy’s father! That man lost his wife!
He’s sacrificed three whole years of his life.
Spring never came for him, winter woes with his wife up above,
but this was tragic evidence of unconditional love.

So his joy was imprisoned like a caged bird once free.
The usher’s heart broke in two
for the man who'd lost three.
Based on True Events.
Rachel Keating Apr 2016
nothing beats the unconditional love of a dog
the way they greet you on your worst days
lick your face clean and smile as you lean in to pet their head
the way they watch you grow up
they're there for the birthdays and the family holidays
for the bad days and the good days,
they'll always be in the mood to play or to just lay with you
the way they'll cuddle with you and lick away your tears,
they'll stay right by your side through all your trials and all your fears
dogs are like a built in best friend
we'll never be able to love like them

nothing beats the unconditional love of a dog
because to us they're just apart of the journey
but to them, we are their entire universe
Mic Mar 2016
Oh you fish
You child of Grace
You can do me no wrong
Ever felt this way for somebody? :)
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