The Woman In The Second Bed Poem by Louise Marie DelSanto

The woman in the second bed
blue eyes focused,
not on the clock on the wall
or the overhead plasma tv,
not on the lab guy who drew
her blood.

Fall precautions, I tell them
a body alarm and maybe a roll belt
for her safety.

Above the sheets and thin blanket
she smiles, but her kind manner is fading
like the minutes of the second shift

And I imagine her rising
up from her bed to join all others
who have gone before her quietly
and without notice

I am traveling down the corridor
without moving, I am moving out
to where it is warm and a thousand
breezes caress my face

I am searching for the peace lily that
blooms on her bedside table
and all the early flower blossoms
that surround a garden in Spring,
searching for peaceful blue waters
and healers that touch the body and
bring back the youth and memory
of long ago

The woman in the second bed,
closes her eyes and does
not remember who I am, but
I stand by her bed and bring
her the meds of her disease
in honor of the gods of age
and technology.