Sunday, January 20, 2013

The sick room

They keep watch

in carbolic-acid suspense

by the sick bed---

cold, still, papery eyelids

shunning life---


Outside,

a boy-child’s voice

suddenly erupts –

shrill  rhapsodic rapt

in his childhood---

pounding childish fists

against stubborn walls

brimful of endless vitality

confident in his indestructibility---


The funereal air inside

the sick room

crackles awake with

the unexpected incandescence

of imperishable joy---


-by Rita Putatunda

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