Where am I?
You know the corridor is out of reach for you.
But you glide through it regardless, and you must.
It doesn’t seem real anyway.
Doors, the floors and the miss-shapes and blurred lines.
Glass windows to a world that’s more distant to you now than ever before.
The emptiness where there should be a chaos…of sorts?
Carry on hopelessly towards the blue haze at the end.
Towards the voices familiar to you.
But they’re strangely distant of late.
Not so clear. Fuzzy like your head.
Strange voices now seem always present, and always changing.
You settle back in you place of rest thinking…I’ve done enough for today.
But you’ve never left your hospital bed.
You are still there.
Gazing at the doors to that corridor.
Confused and afraid,
you are still there.
(On any given day in Ireland there could be between 600-800 sick and elderly, lying on trollies in hospital corridors and emergency rooms? Staff shortages, cutbacks and mismanagement all playing their part).