Hospital Observations

 There’s an old man sitting in a wheelchair
 head bowed, hands shaking on the armrests
 stiffly holding up his feet, skimming the floor, 
 for there are no footrests on the chair.

 He is being pushed by another man, just as old,
 with shuffling feet that barely lift as he moves.
 It’s hard to tell just who is looking after whom
 as they slowly make their way down the hall.

 An old woman is making a determined journey.
 Click, Clack, she lifts and moves her walker forward
 Shhhlippp, she slides her feet an inch or two along
 then lifts her head to see how far she’s gone.

 Click, Clack, Shhhlippp, and pause, repeats 
 as she moves slowly on, inches at a time, 
 toward the end that doesn’t seem much closer,
 but if she sees you, she’ll smile the brightest smile.

 A young man shuffles, bent at the waist, 
 broken lines upon his face, keeping near the wall, 
 fingers clinging tight, he grips a pole on wheels 
his constant partner as he walks

Pain makes moving hard, each step a trial
but in his pride he refused to take a chair,
and keeps his eyes focused on the floor
hoping no one sees the fear they hold.

A baby cries, it's mother just a child herself.
She holds the little bundle in her arms
her eyes light up with motherly delight
but her smile shakes at the corners, tugged with fear.

She sees the other mothers with their babies
all laughing, husbands; mothers, sisters too.
What can she offer, what hope is there to hope
once she carries home her baby all alone?

august 2004
©Janet Reid





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