a visit to the hospital ward,
at twilight time before the Sabbath
depressing and necessary,
void and empty,
looking forward beheld fragile promises,
they came on their own
as I lay prone in pain,
humiliated that my frame
had succumbed,
my bed space, curtained and un-private
welcomed the two
who met at my bedside,
for the first time,
in low sonorous voices
we recorded our past and
the enclosure curtained the exchange,
a hsitory of the vanguard and old-guard
lost visions and hopes
despair and disappointment,
resignation and acceptance,
that time was not on our side, if ever
the hospital ward is conducive
to a fatalism, that ones will might lose the struggle
with destiny,
gave our future to doctors of medicine
still and all wary and skeptical,
a good sign that we have not given up,
and would hold on to decision making,
for time time is most precious and priceless
when threatened, to be taken away
There are moments that mandate that we measure our mortality. This poem deals with serious issues with a kind of ease that makes it refreshing.
I love the ending of this one....why is it that we fight so hard towards the end, rather than all through life....you always get my brain ticking Shimon, always
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simon you painted a vividly tangible scene of the hospital.well done