Icu Poem by Ajit Das

The sunlight is reclining,
leaving a zigzag shadow
on the stone wall outside,
opposite the cabin window.

Sometimes it is gleaming,
sometimes, dimming;
perhaps the sky is not
an entire stretch of blue.

A few stray clouds may hover
on the distant horizon,
making the colour scheme
appear dull and bright,

like the computers inside
before the monitoring eyes
of the doctors and sisters,
showing graphs of hope, despair.

Yet the chariot of live moves on,
dispelling the dark of night,
to the serene glow of morning light.