Posted by Admin on 31 March 2008, 12:00 am
They enter, hearty clowns, and rip the hoop
of sterilized monotony – their eggs and grapes
the symbols of solicitude.
Exuding auras of normality, now supercharged
with bonhomie to brave the awe-inspiring screens,
they emphasise an isolation absolute as death’s.
All falsehood-primed they sit, reciting words of hope,
to soothe and reassure – opaque, oblivious of pleas
for one last boon – a moment of perception.
Weightless words impinge against the leaden mass
of their assumed omniscience.
A nurse beckons – significance cocooned in reticence –
they leave, relieved to go – and, desolate,
the patient hears the ultimate goodbye.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council