Sunday, January 25, 2015

 Every Heartbeat       

The rhythm of a heartbeat,
like an old record, is the same
throughout the years--

           and beautiful.

One scratch on the record 
ruins its performance, 
as does a blockage
to the heart.  Pain gathers 
and spreads in intensity 
as time passes--

          and ever present.
Slowly admission rises 
above the surface of denial.
While caught between  
a narcotic haze and consciousness,
I begin to face the truth. 
This place is unfamiliar, 
too bright, sterile, cold 
and buzzing with foreign 
sounds.  My eyelids feel 
heavy like elevator doors 
sliding open.  A stranger 
in a mask nods, random words
drift by--

          and surgery.

I reach out in my semi state 
of oblivion searching
for what I so desperately need.  
The stark room dissipates 
and Mother's kitchen comes into view;
a safe place to regain--

          and courage

with which to embrace a second chance.

Published By:  Barefoot  Review
        December 21,  2012

©All Rights Reserved – Nells Wasilewsk




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