Friday, January 24, 2014

Curled imaginings

Pillow-huddled, curled toward her own imaginings,
The bones held loose in panting flesh,
She lay upon the self-breathing bed,
almost as if, they rose and fell as one. 

This bed of life could rise and fall,
With one sure touch, with pure  and practical intention,
Prepared as it was, to hold lightly
The shrivelled soul that sought sanctuary.

Sounds of breath and sounds of bed,
Drew patterned hopes in steady weaving
And eyelids closed in weary fall
Upon the days, the dreams, and visitors.

How many years had drifted past
Upon this stark white cushioning?
No answer, for she had none, and neither did she know
If she lay upon reward, or punishment.

If truth be known, and it rarely is,
The answer must embrace both offerings,
For in the suffering lay peace,
And in the sanctuary, brewed torment.

But such things had all become as one
Through years of curled imaginings,
And now she simply lay and breathed …
In what was life’s last offering.


  1. oh heck...that leaves me with a heavy feel... i wonder what brought her there...the self-breathing bed...the being curled up in like her own world and not sure if it's blessing or curse... heck...i wish she could live again...

    1. Mental illness and rheumatoid arthritis - my mother.

  2. considering my father in law was in the hospital this weekend and fearing death...i feel you and all too real...and find myself at times caught between wanting them to find the peace of the after and still being here and getting took me back there in the reading...

    1. Ah yes, the double-edged sword although my mother had little quality of life for much of her life and certainly for the last ten. Death was a release and a relief for her and everyone. But never easy.

  3. How many years had drifted past - This is very poignant and very well written, full of conveyed emotion and questions.

  4. End of life.. being connected to a machine... I wonder how the end will be.. sometimes a sudden end would be better.. but when you are there at the end.. I'm sure you never feel ready.. like the knight in the seventh seal... playing chess with death

  5. How sad the final parting - but for some a sweet release from suffering. Your words have a beauty about them.

  6. Thanks alan 1704, Bjorn and hyperCRYPTIcal, for your input. Much appreciated.