Krankenhaus

Hospitals are an amalgamation of human suffering

In silent rooms filled with assisted breaths, the air has never felt so heavy

Frail, bleary eyes watch me, marvelling at my completeness from their stitched up points of view

Brittle bones held together with pins and plates,

inside they are mostly titanium.

I drift through the halls and see only half faces, steps slowed by worry or weariness

These people stay up at night too, unable to put the day to rest

I wonder how one hour a day can possibly make up for the previous twelve

The stark sterile sheets never do feel like home, and the quiet is never comfortable.

Between worried looks and nervous pacing, there is a spark of hope in the smiling woman helping her elderly mother up the stairs

In the couple leaning together like the point of a tent, strong only with each other's support

And the employees who let me in even though visiting hours ended at three.

There is an undeniable solidarity in adversity

A quiet kindness found in an extra pudding cup, or a book of crosswords

The gentle hum of the AC becomes a lullaby, and tiny cups of cheap coffee become the antidote for bad news

We wait for the people we love to be pieced back together

Until they have morphed into walking mosaics of scar tissue.