Friday, 5 December 2014

Living not waiting?




The Waiting Room

Intent on newspapers, phones, the floor
We wait, a studied calmness
I see the strain in faces
The men alongside the women
Silent in the main
Waiting our purpose here

A sigh, a shuffle of paper
Down turned eyes
The door opens
A name is called
We settle back to our waiting
For our turn to leave

The December frost sets the tone
Of this winter day
Life bustles with Christmas
But in this room we wait
Our lives on pause
Our breath held till we know

Behind me the Blackadder painting
Attempts to soften the blow
The soft purple Iris bring
Colour and life to the starkness
A fellow survivor-so her work
Holds that deeper meaning

Twenty years since I first sat waiting
To know my fait
To learn that cancer would change my path
To scar my breast and my life
Is that it's legacy?
Waiting to know its next move

The king of players
Omnipotence in it's hand
Defiant I set my face against it
My life, my decisions give me
An illusion of control
That's enough for now

The ebb and flow of the waiting room
A hypnotic movement
One tense face replaced by another
Flicking through journals to stop
Thinking- mind full not
Mindful in this waiting room for life

My turn in time
I face the judgement of the
Clinicians skill and cold steel
Of the mammogram
I leave with a warm dose of optimism
No longer waiting but living

Actually it was out to a walk though the park on a wonderful winter day,a fabulous blue sky then tempted us into a walk through the Botanic gardens. 




 

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