Four hours of total oblivion;
nothing moved, not a second ticked
in that blank with space-time undone
In a later revelation
I was told
masked men in green
had worked with their scalpels
on my insentient corpus
during that eventless silence
Anaesthesia is the name;
if the experience was a blank,
where did it exist
without space and time?
And who experienced it,
later to be told
that men had engaged themselves
in repair work on an unknowing mass of flesh
in a mundane matrix?
I was the world
and it was withdrawn
into the bosom of the silence I am
for four hours,
a nowhere timelessness,
later to be unfurled
like a folded umbrella;
Lo, there are the stars!
There then begins
all the old narratives;
the surgeons were there working
all the time
with their attending anaesthetist.
The grandfather clock on the wall
added measure to their toil
doing four circumambulations
around an uncaring fulcrum
The story resumes,
all reported speech;
the patient knew nothing
for he didn't know
he was an ocean of silence,
the so-called void,
where the waves of the world
were really naught,
an ephemeral reflection
of absolute non-substance
...hold a lit cigar, sandwich, or coffee to his/her (the doctor's) lips. Well, I REALLY did work in O.R.s, but it was actually very professional. The nurses only served diet soda! ! : )))) Apparently YOU survived. Good. ;) bri
MN, I worked for a while in a surgery, handing instruments etc. to the doctors. Of course I had some leisure time when the headman (or woman) would have a nurse.....(cont.)
This a poem of such depth that I'm having trouble fathoming it! It's not the first time I've been struck somewhat (not completely) clueless by a poem. (cont.)
Very nice poem of reflections and looking back on medical circumstance when one really is nothing but a bundle of inactive flesh and bones. Still I suppose something is there deep within us storing all those experiences under the anesthesia.
Thanks a lot for the comment. Yes, there is something that remains and that truly we are is what the poem trying to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
p.s. For those unfamiliar with my wit, I DID fib/lie a bit above.