Face Masked Poem by Mark Heathcote

Through a beaded wet pane of glass
an elderly woman's-face masked smiles
braving what is to come, from the inside
ghostly, her hand waves a signal ‘I'm fine. '

But is she? The strain is starting to show,
it's no hotel, palm on glass wanting to grasp,
hold her daughter, a son, a grandchild.
But pathogens hold the key to her cell.

Confusion at this age is a prison-guard
on a 24/7 duty roster, ‘I'm fine'—but is she?
She waves to reassure those in the courtyard
bravely as if she's in some pantomime.

But no one is pulling punches her strings,
‘day and night' within very similar walls
there are real alarm bells; patients are dying,
elderly victims, crying, take on angel wings.

But for now, she remembers better times
counts the charms on her charm bracelet
starting with the first her long-dead husbands
and thanks the staff she says are the greatest.