Adult:
Waiting
Plumbed from icy cauldrons of memory,
A child stands in a creeping, slinking queue.
Drab, dreary walls freeze mind and body
While nervous chatter stabs like a pick
On an iceberg of fear and dread.
On and on, inexorably on,
Until on the edge of abyss
The white coat chants,
“Next.”
Over Flanders Field they fly.
Faceless lips mumble silent words
As engines growl gloomy dirges.
Vapored breath rises
Past eyes to young to see what awaits.
Green lights trip springs compressed
Enclosed within each moving shadow.
Lifted forward by fear, guilt, love, regret,
Each like bullets in a chamber
Reaching the brink of the barrel,
“Jump.”
Bright lights mock the darkness within.
White walls scream like banshees
At solemn requiem mass.
Broken, hollow men stare into
Terrazzo movies with sad endings.
Pens and canary forms decide
The fate of father, friend, and family.
Indignity, hapless, unlucky, reality.
The opaque glass window beckons,
“Number 49.”
Warm zephyrs tossle cottony hair
And push white misty clouds across the sky.
Distant worlds, long forgotten,
Lay sleeping under thick blankets of resignation.
Thoughts come as a pond on a windless day,
When the world was new.
Darkness and light come as eager friends.
The ship now sails on a bright blue ocean
Caressed with warmth and gentle breezes.
Storms and danger all gone along with
Memories held so dear.
“Welcome.”
By: Lynn H. Martin