I sit nearly an hour
before noticing that it's my father,
a long shadow at the end of the hall
covered in a cream stained sheet.
His bony arm dangles against the silver
railings of the gurney. I see his head
flickering from side to side, like
a wound up toy; his chest rising
and finding little air.
My eyes fix on his motion. I recognize him now:
the dark shape of his head,
the Indian size nose,
the salt and pepper wavy hair
parted on one side.
I rush to him, find him
frail and gasping, like a deer one would hit
and leave suffering on the side of a seldom used road.
My anger reaches capacity.
I hurl obscenities into the air;
they find their mark on faces that are as blank
as their useless white uniforms;
and I curse a doctor who is passing by.
To shut me up, they scramble to attend Daddy
and lead him away.
Sleepless into morning, my husband comes,
holds me; he places his nose gently
against the middle of my forehead
and says, "Pop Pop died."
Sadness has overcome us all at one time or another. Either caused by a relative or close friend's death or from the girl or guy that broke our heart or just life in general. We all handle situations differently, some good, some bad. This contest gives us the ability to explore this. Your poem can also play into other emotions that are common to writing like this such as anger or depression.|
This was the last time seeing my father alive. The staff left him alone...to suffer unattended. It broke my heart to see him treated so.
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