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A Hospital Stay - Part I

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Below is the poem entitled A Hospital Stay - Part I which was written by poet William Masonis. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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A Hospital Stay - Part I

                              "Nothing my hide from the hidden."

                                                                   - Japanese Proverb

                                                           1.

                                      Gulliver's God Goes Silent

Sir Johnathan's Lilliputians assumed
Gulliver's watch to be his personal god,
Observing how seldom he took action
Without first consulting it.

Time has come to be the Tyrant God of our frenzied Age;
The One Who Harries
The mass of us from here to there and back again
Crying down to the faithful the terrible slippage
The relentless loss of minutes, hours and days,
Unreclaimable all,
Shouting to us from our wrists, our walls and all things electric
The message of incompletion,
Of things undone and lost
In the unstoppable flood that sweeps us along
Carrying all we think we know
Towards some great, invisible and communal Terminus.

     The acolytes' wishes are served,
     In serving one so like ourselves
     Serving those unsatisfied by any sacrifice.

     The call comes in late September;
     A doctor's voice informs me
     Of a tale mad cells are telling
     As they gather themselves deep within,
     An aimless tide of their lives just beginning
     To flourish sans form or purpose
     Bringing destruction to the  temple they occupy
     Through their sheer abundance.

That was when, for the first time,
My part in the steady move towards the Terminus
Loomed clear and certain in my sight,
And joined the strong knowings of my heart.

A fluid anxiety filled me,
Running shapeless and invincible
And I felt, somehow, like I was drowning.

So it was that as another Summer gathered itself up for its death
I checked into the hospital
To be dropped into chemical oblivion
And laid out like an offering
To the spirits of Blood and  Mystery
Reading my organs through greengloved hands,
Interpreting the language of manic cells.

Skin peeled back like the pages of a book
I lay captive in the sleep of Lethe
As they read the script writ in red within
     Making decisions
     Correcting errata.

          And the god on the wall
          Moved his hands in passing across his face,
          But not for me.

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  1. Date: 8/24/2013 10:53:00 AM

    Strong ending... very nicely told. It is good to be inside your head on this journey. Yes, I hold a fear of these days, yet... and my fear, silly as it may sound to some, impossible to others, is simply that I may disappoint God by dying, and not being translated. yep! such are my own beliefs. Very good poem, Wm. hugs, Catie :)