Strange Comfort
- By Thom Skiens -
i was in a place
i’d never been before
the pristine halls of white and dinge
the hint of death
that lurked there, too,
was a haunting force
ghosts lingered upon the walls, the tiles that
linked ceilings with floors
and i inbetween was mere mortal
with blurry eye site i wandered
the white halls with liquid vision
while one soul, my partner,
was near that mystic frightening
unspeakable
place
he, only 33, the age of jesus
layed there like a sleeping gentle giant
i, a smaller human, hung on like a child
for xmas morning and his breaths, his heart
beat
was that of man, that of boy, that of human
kind
women in the halls with their
black hoods, kind old faces
would smile at me
in spite of my sinful existence in their world
i was but a meek member of society
and still mother mary smiled upon me
when i entered that place
he lingered for days
his huge chest, too, a terrain of determined life
or death, would it be?
i felt strange comfort inside that place
where nuns strolled the halls
upon his ending
i cried, inconsolably
i could not tolerate the terror
i stepped outside into october air
amidst my own tears, i heard another sound:
the cry of a baby from somewhere
high
i had lost my partner
but in his place
a new soul had entered the universe
i felt strange comfort
