Deaths Call Poem by Nell Sheridan

The silence, foreboding, discreetly sombre, an unmistakable vestige,
The scent of sweat, hospital food, permeates the passage,
Eyes averted, in timed succession, What do you know?
Tell me! Tell me! Tell me what you know?
Steps weighted, the hallway unending, anxiety looms acquiescently,
The secret beyond, a seemingly inconceivable, impossibility,
The dust particles dance, caught helplessly, by the suns slender rays,
The sun is setting, somewhere outside, the nurse she calmly delays,
An ugly little room, hazed discomfort,full of whispering stares,
Dirty worn carpet, old faded paint, a cluster of haphazard chairs,
Centrifugal within the room, her control, evidently misplaced,
Her beauty drained, she clings, consequentially, my feelings interlaced,
For death's kiss, preceded us all, blatantly robbing final seconds,
No such respite, is ever achieved, when death she finally beckons,
His father stares blindly, I hear his mind reliving his experience,
The shake of his hand, an adopted expression, his muteddissidence,
They stare at me, silence unending, somehow misreading my need,
To me: "hold him, you need to hold him" I hear her cry and plead,
The nurse she nods, attempting to remove him from his mother'sembrace,
I stand in silence, disgusted, I have never witnessed such disgrace,
She screams her pain, control forsaken, she can't let him go,
So why? do they insist, despite her pain, that she must do so,
A primal scream, that defies, all my abilities, of illustration,
Desperation and fear, loss and love, all one giant contemplation,
The nurse she insists, screams intensified, I start to cry,
No child should ever, be taken from their mother, let her say goodbye,
I sit alone on the chair,and hold him, just a little while,
The last time I saw him, yesterday, he had his cheeky smile,
His golden hair,unruly and wild, suited his huge personality,
Now all those memories, occur to me, some state of transiency,
I spoke to him and stroked his hair, we spoke of eating ice-cream,
His little hands, so small in mine, the indescribable cold, so extreme,
I remember the day, I chose his name, of Hebrew origin,
Gift of God, unbelievably apt, than I realised in the beginning,
I am holding him now, like I did, on the day he was born,
There is fear, there is loss, from my pain angeris born,
Finally, I return him to his mum, I hold her a while,
No word is spoken, silence remains, our hearts in exile,
Words they fail, there is nothing, that could possibly describe,
The cyclonic emotions, raging endlessly, somewheredeep inside,
Their pain I witness, so immense, frommy front row position,
I look down at my feet, thinking my life, requires some revision,
Not by choice, I watch the obscenity, of this callous nightmare,
Against this present,my problematicrealities, don't even compare,
I would take their pain, if I knew how, I have no power here,
I remain a captive, watching on, withholding a silent tear,
I can not comfort, reassure them, assist in anyway,
Sedated she sits, her free thinking, paused for the remainder of today,
Her husband, is internal in thought, refusing this reality,
The nurses efficient, hardened, to yet another fatality,
The sun is gone, there is no one left, the room grows even colder,
I wonder if, this would be easier, if I were just a little older? ,
Its time to leave, her screams lessen, to saddened cries,
We leave alone, supposedly comforted, after saying our goodbyes.




07052018