Echoes in Stripes

Sterile white, a tomb of cold embrace, The PET machine hums, a watchful space. Gauze-thin gown, a whisper on my skin, Vulnerability etched, lets fear creep in. Striped pyjamas, loose and pale they fall, There is a jarring contrast in this sterile hall. No comfort's touch, but memory's sting, Of countless souls, where suffering did cling. Bruno's whispers paint a tragic scene, A boy in stripes, where innocence has been Lost in the camps, a childhood scarred and torn, A stark reminder, that life, is so quickly shorn. Yet, in his eyes, a flicker remains, A search for answers, defying endless pains. Mirrored in mine, the same yearning burns, To understand, the battle life returns. The scanner's maw, a metal, cold embrace, A solitary space, where shadows chase. Mortality's breath, a whisper on the breeze, A life laid bare, beneath the whispering trees. But Bruno's spirit, a defiant star, Embraces empathy, though wounds still scar. From the darkest depths, where hope seems to wane, Resilience blooms, to conquer life's domain. Emerging free, a weight falls from my chest, The striped shroud was discarded, finding sweet release. A turning point, where shadows melt away, To cherish moments, bathed in the sunlit day. The fight remains, unseen, a constant hum, But courage rises, where hope has overcome. Beyond the scan, a future yet untold, With a grateful heart, a spirit brave and bold. (Reflections that happened when I wore the ‘Blue and White’ striped pyjamas during PET CT on March 9, 2024)