The Hospital’s Guest (from 2012, when my sister died)

I remain.
Monstrous forces beckon
on the periphery of spirit.
Jaundiced faces,
with bodies cloaked in white,
awaiting the mistress of bile.
Creatures without solace,
growing within,
never to be satiated till finality is met.
And each day's bill must be paid.

I remain.
Not without merit and seeking only compassion.
My friends and enemies mixed company.
My wallet heavy with paper and light with wealth.
I will not dispel the witch's glance.
I shall, 
instead, 
curry favor with the devil 
in defense of good health.

I remain.
Steadfast and ill.
Blood stained and soulless.
Comprehensive and narrow-minded.
Death to the participant 
and director of this farce.

So, go ahead.
Check-in to this factory.
Make yourself known to fools.
Allow their wretched hands to wrench your body.
Make merry in their medieval dungeon.
They remain.
They will stay.
Their God or gods are not your forebear;
they forsake even the light.
The pain you suffer is not theirs.
The drugs they dispense are not for you.
No comfort, 
because...

I remain.
Awake and emptying out slowly.
A soul's distance 
no further than the door.

I remain and hope that 
some loving angel takes my breath.
That this same angel may usher me home.