Cabin 30B

"I do not like hospitals" .... this is a bit like saying "I do not like a friggin' boil on my ass" .... but very honestly... there is something in those long corridors and the swathes of whiteness which creeps me out. I am hardly the first to express discomfort at an encounter with mortality, and I'm sure I won't be the last.... the thing is, when you're 20, you have a very well-constructed veneer of invincibility around you..... and when the illusion shatters from time to time.... well, confrontation can be... tricky, if you get my drift. The past month, in a set of weird coincidences, four of my close friends had to visit the horror house for myriad accidents and illnesses, and I found myself waiting in those long corridors far too many times for my liking.

"Cabin 30-B"

What do you do when the talk dries up?

When all you're left with is silence,

The stillness in white, and before you

The devouring endless night?

How do you define loss?

Would it be better if she were snatched from you,

Suddenly, and with an iron fist

The matter settled before you resist?

"We can manage her pain" , they say

As if it were a simple chore,

A minor inconvenience, a sleight-of-hand

And all the while, the hours slip by like sand.

You nod your head, as if it were a trifle

The choking lump which you tried to stifle,

In your throat, growing, rising

To the surface, threatening to give way.

Sudden surge of faith, you pray

For strength, and the will to stay

By her side, and be the one

You ought to be.

Little did you know, 'tis all a haze,

You fooled no one with your show-and-tell

And least of all her, a simple gaze

Did crack the facade, how the mighty fell!

She looks at you with a reassuring smile

And takes your hand, "It's okay, you know,

To be afraid, to show your fear

It's a phony man, who knows not a tear.

The gods themselves do envy us

And play their games, so mischievous

For we, with our wondrous fragility

Outshine their immortal misery.

Our love does shine in a brighter light

And these fleeting moments which are given us,

Than any divine eternal sight,

For 'tis Fate's hand, so ravenous

That brings us this sweet parting... "

Riddle me this, ye wise old men?

If you remember, tell me when

Was the last time you heard or read

Of the Dying consoling the Dead?