
One doesn't quite notice silence in the same way as they do in a hospital. The hushed voices and the quiet beeps of the machines on every floor are almost a surreal feeling. I watched her chest rise and fall in a way you don't normally even notice. She looked older, or maybe just more tired than I am used to. I touched her hand then pulled away not knowing if that was OK. "Does she even know I am here? I asked the nurse. "It's hard to say", the nurse replied to me. I sat there and held her hand for hours surrounded by beeps, breathing the sterile air into my lungs. So far removed from the playground where she watched me intently. Me and my scratched knees, and dirty clothes. Now it was my turn to be there, watching her intently. Seeing her off to wherever good mothers go in the end.
where the nurses walk
on quiet soles of mercy
silence paves the way
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Thanks for reading! - Sam
About the Creator
ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTY
Sam Harty is a poet of raw truth and quiet rebellion. Author of Lost Love Volumes I & II and The Lost Little Series, her work confronts heartbreak, trauma, and survival with fierce honesty and lyrical depth. Where to find me
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