April 2007 – (Lying In A White Room.) Poem by Alanna Flynn

Bland walls, minimal eye-catching art,
coughs and colds, broken bones and broken hearts.
Robots marching through countless
halls to fulfill their duties.
Probably loaded up on caffeine
and adrenalin from last night’s shift.

Drip, drip, the IV drops.
Where is life in this
place where hurting is
suppose to stop?

Every face seems the same –
“What’s wrong? How long?
Oh. What’s your name? ”
Even the questions never change.
Not much diversity in
these parts.
They just come to us when called.

Drip, drip, the IV drops.
Where is life in this
place where hurting is
suppose to stop?

So here is where the sun
shines a little brighter.
A nurse comes in and asks me
if I’m a writer.
He asks where I’m from, and
other little things.
Giving some extra time to find out
about the real healthy me.

Drip, drip, the IV drops.
It’s nice to know that
time hasn’t
stopped.

I’m back in my room, with
Momma by my side resting.
Can’t wait to return to my life
of questing.
Many adventures to come,
and even more words to write.
You won’t see me here until the days
of new life.