A Visit to Hospital

By Sandeep Kumar Mishra

Hospitals are ideogram of truth where death
has no false tint of life but pukka pain, pink anguish
and some stained hopes. Here white walls soon desert
their fresh petroleum essence to adopt new
aroma of medicines, syrups, dettols and antiseptics
with some of the odourless bones and meat overnight.

These patients have the patience of the old Spartan
school because the man is greater than his pain.
When you hold one of their hand, you feel like your
house keys in your fist. If you hug them their
ribs make a room for your fleshy abdomen while you
sense the titanic waterfall of their hearts slowly sinking.

Avoid any mirror or self reflection coming here,
You won't see the things you usually see outside,
Your purged soul will peep out of body fabric like
the sun light coming out of a barred window.
It will be hard to balance petty yourself as inner
burden will be more than the body weight,
but remember, here no heart is by-passed by love.

So let us praise these insomniac beds!
Let us praise the fans that do not adjust!
Praise the room service that doesn’t exist!
And praise the hospital staff wearing masks of joy.
They find expired lungs and tired hearts lying
in their paths every day. While playing poker
with their lives in this game with virus and ailments,
they foster death for other passive parties too.




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