INK Poetry Read

Untitled Poem
by Brianna Charron '19

Start the timer.
Sixteen hours left
A hospital bed and wires everywhere,
He can't breathe.
Tubes and needles pierce pale skin.

Fifteen hours left.
They can't figure out what's wrong with him.
A wife weeps and hopes for her husbands health.
Hurry.

Fourteen hours left.
There's a small blood clot in the brain,
They don't know how.
He was fine a couple days ago.

Thirteen hours left.
Sweet memories of the past,
Fill a wife's mind
And thoughts of the unknown creep in.
More tears and more fear.

Twelve hours left.
The blood clot is getting bigger,
They can't do anything for it.

Eleven hours left.
More strokes and heart attacks.
Calls to the family,
False hope
And prayers are whispered from trembling lips.

Ten hours left.
The tears won't stop,
These mixed feelings of confusion and sadness.
Anger.
I can't stop shaking.
I want to accept it but can't.
The tears keep falling
It's like a thunder storm in my head
Make it stop, please

Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.

Four hours left.
I was awoken by sobbing.
We have to go the the hospital.
The hurting won't stop.
The car engine hums,
It's 6:14

Three hours left.
I knew this would happen.
SCU 3 is the room number.
The air is dense,
I can barely get a full breath.

Two hours left.
Everyone's here now.
My mind is blank,
What do we do after this.

One hour left.
I can't breathe,
I leave to go outside.
I think to myself.
Why does this have to happen?
Why do I feel this burning in my chest?
But yet,
I feel cold.
Like a mild winter storm.
It feels like everyone is going at the speed of light
And I am standing still
In this sea of busy people
That don't feel the same way

Zero hours left.
We go back inside,
Walking up the ramps,
Through white hallways,
Something lifts off my shoulders.
We arrive at the room,
I can't believe my eyes.
"He's gone."