Read this poem. My friend Mark wrote it. Can you guess what it is about? The space is bright and clean and spartan Uncluttered by the detritus of everyday living Removed from the world and its daily grind Providing a place for visitors… to wait. A flatscreen television anchored to a wall Softly offers medical tips and trivia A phone’s low bubbly ring at the front desk Answered patiently by the receptionist With a quiet “doctor’s office, how may I help you?” They only emphasize the hush throughout the room A stillness shaped of heightened suspense A sense that everyone has forgotten to breathe Employees go about their regular chores Filing, typing, shelving, storing Working in a companionable silence Patients of all shapes and ages in a holding pattern Waiting in cushioned chairs with neutral colors Shifting, squirming, fidgeting, hoping Reading magazines as old as Fall 2006 Turning pages of books brought from home The water cooler burbles and sloshes briefly While someone fills a plastic cup half-full One and all waiting with underlying dread Then, the inner door opens noiselessly Revealing a figure wearing scrubs the color of teal Calling out a surname prefaced with “Mr.” or “Ms.” Prompting someone to heave a sigh of relief And rise from their seated position, finally And walk through the open entryway Hearing the door close shut with a definitive click For one person… the waiting… is now over.
Posted on: Wed, 31 Jul 2013 14:28:57 +0000
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