Petals dropping

A shaft of light, torch-like, lights the room

this room, off a corridor, in the huge building.

Alone, save the silent nurse who sleeps, I long

to be home, to be kissed, to take in the scent

of Dad’s neck as he carries me.

My body does not respond no matter my effort

lifeless as a flower cut with petals dropping,

my limbs inert, akinetic, mute my voice, this done to me

without my knowing, and yet I sense each touch

every invasive thing. I am destroyed, a mind encased

inside a tomb that is my flesh, bone, and blood.

My thoughts drift back to familiar worlds

of being chosen, the boy sweet on me, golden hair

they shaved away, the branch in that tree smoothed

by our jeans, I could not know it would be you

that died in my arms, and my Dad would die there too.