Etched Memories

by Cseh-Varga Orsolya (SolYaCheva) |  via

I close my eyes and it’s dark
All I see is white, breathing gets hard
I see you, I see my hands, my legs shaking
I sense Mom’s grip everywhere on my body
Like she’s hugging me right this moment
I hear her voice, her little teary weeps
I see Dad running in, rushing into a blur
I see the man, asking for papers, I can’t speak
I see the woman in the waiting room,
walking away in fear of the windows shattering from the flooding grief and echoes of cries
I see all the dark, black eyes staring at me, waiting for my next move
I see, I hear the doctor—the stupid doctors, giving up, resigning away
I see the shocking pads, the heart monitors, the wires on your chest, the needle in your ashen, thin hand

I am living this scene, this torture every single night, every single silent moment
And those 310 days feel nonexistent
It is happening right now, right in front of me
And I can’t move, can’t talk, can’t do anything
To save you..

All I can do is cry,
Grip my blanket with my fingers and toes,
Scratch my skin and punch every wall,
Suffocate myself in my stained pillow,
And scream into the dark;
The never ending vicious voices in my head;
The sempiternal cycle of grief.

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