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E.R.

 

People suffering
in hard backed chairs
arranged in a lobby
6 feet apart
 
they come in
aided by family members
coming come from all walks of life
some cannot walk at all
 
walkers, crutches, canes
in some cases stretchers
all pass by in search of relief
 
there is no humor here
no smiles
no expression in their eyes
patients are hollow vessels
of who they used to be
 
silence
fills the room
anxiety roams the sterile halls
fear lurks behind every corner
 
people are just exhausted
worn out from their ordeal
holding in their pain
waiting for
their name to be called
 
they limp along
they stoop
they strain
they suffer in place
almost defeated
yet ever hopeful
 
their fate in the hands of
the emergency room
 
they pray for cures
they wait for miracles.
 
 
 

◄ A Great Poem

September ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Wed 1st Sep 2021 17:22

Grim but good.

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