. . .
It Is What It Is
I have a collision of thoughts,
Sure memory flooding my mind.
As I begin to wish you love;
Unfolding passage through this time.
When kind happiness paved the way,
Where once was just dirt, un-tilled ground.
My one spooled thread of life unbound,
On concrete steps when I fell down.
True passion screams when slapped with pain.
The door to death I jarred; not found.
Life screamed back a lion's loud roar,
With screws, and metal plates, and more.
So many recited prayers said.
God came close to see death with me.
A power drill to dislodge screws,
Set a fixated pelvis free.
Along with those who came to see,
What ungodly state come of me.
While in that bed, and surely dead,
Then they were friendliest to me.
The tubes, rods, blood, and gauze,
A swollen face, and shattered jaw;
Traction, a stirring sight to see.
You, in love, laid down next to me.
My broken, battered, still body,
In that hospital, wings up bed.
Crying tears for you not to see,
The ugly mess left of me.
Holding my beaten, limp, weak hand,
Slow, so the IV. didn’t bend.
Trying to fuse your healing strength,
Through your passionate hand to me.
Your loving kind heart, with me there,
Whispered my name in deep love, and care.
© Copyright 2009 SHEA (UN: sheamus at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
SHEA has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
