Hospital Gowns . . . and one fallen leaf.

The Waiting Room Outside.
By: the iHope Poet

You wouldn't think to marvel at the beauty of pain.
But I do.
You probably wouldn't notice the few leaves (this time of year) blowing
through the wind on the ground; rustling against the pavement -- the echo of death
mockingly grating against a sacred silence.
But I did.
I couldn't just sit there and hear talk of still-breath and funeral plans when,
just inside, just a left turn down the hall and through a door,
laying on a bed with the t.v. flashing and muted, she's there.
She, with all the blood and the tubes and the wilted skin,
and the monitors that always find a reason to beep! 
She, with the metal Christmas tree, in the middle of June, upon which hangs prescription ornaments dangling in clear plastic bags, with all these labels that mean nothing to me,
and yet, mean the difference between her life and death --
She's there.

And breathing.
Not a limp leaf, scrambling across the grounds as the wind teases its hopelessness.
Not a body just yet, but a spirit. A soul. Grasping for help as she struggles with the pain and the fear.
It isn't easy, fighting pain. But harder still is having the courage to fight the fear of pain.
She has that courage.
The courage to say a prayer, over and over, to be comforted when it would be easier
to panic and give in.
And she does not.

For the beauty of the pain she grapples with;
for the time she spends conquering her fears --
and all of ours.
For the beauty of that dead leaf, on the ground;
God only knows how long it struggled on the branches, before
the wind overcame its strength.

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