In my ICU cocoon I rest alone

in solitary peace and quiet.

I think of little but the fact

that many things are left unsaid;

reminded that a silent tongue

can hurt a loved one just as much

as saying something hurtful can.

 

The tubes that festoon,

lights that blink and

monitors with jumping lines

tell stories to the clever folk

who monitor our failing pumps.

And we had better understand

that life is not a little game.

There is no practice run.

 

Next door in cocoon number four

suddenly activity.

A roll of wheels,

the squeak of feet,

the slither of a sliding door.

Fast words,

and orders indistinct.

Bed in moving scrapes the wall.

 

The sounds of people working hard,

I am not sure what’s going on.

I only sense the tragedy,

the drama in a tottering life.

Not me, I know that I’m OK.

My body ridged, fingers clenched,

I am not in the next cocoon

except that It just could be me.

 

A nurse takes time to visit me.

“ I’m sorry for the noise and fuss.

He was so sick, if not that old

and though we tried our very best

It was his time to go.”

A patted pillow,

straightened sheet,

and I am left alone to rest.

 
 
David Garlick, Victoria, 1996