Inside Things

The fever is raging inside me, somewhere near other
inside things- denial, maybe, or broken pride, all coursing
through swollen veins, breaking down resistance, not seeing the
external manifestation. What does blood know of what it
does to the eyes? What does throbbing know of yellowed wounds?
The darkness is all around, unable to soothe my brow, my
legs, parts seemingly disconnected, devolving into separate
spirals of pain, but darkness cannot find its own hands, even
to pass me a plate of cold sorrow. Only your absence sits still at
the foot of my bed, unwilling to look at me. I feel its presence
like a steel handrail, unyielding, telling me why I cannot get up
and leave. An unsighted fever, a blindfolded night and a phantom
hope in a triangle of hopelessness… three blind rodents waiting for
morning. Why are sheets on hospital beds so white? Why is
tomorrow always farther away than yesterday. Even at night.
Especially at night.

36 thoughts on “Inside Things

  1. Love the questions at the end, the three blind rodents and the experience told through the body.

    Like

  2. The fever, the night, and hope–all blinded! Amazing mice!
    I love the rhetorical questions (“What does blood know ….) and love even more the darkness trying to comfort the patient, but “darkness cannot find its own hands, even / to pass me a plate of cold sorrow.” How dark is that? No wonder we have white sheets, no wonder i’s easier to see yesterday than tomorrow.

    Like

  3. I agree, this is absolutely raw and piercing! Especially touched by “Only your absence sits still at the foot of my bed, unwilling to look at me.”

    Like

  4. Well you have certainly summed up a bad night. Sometimes tha brain does really go out on its own and misbehave. However I must be doing something right it has been quiet for a few days.

    Like

  5. WHEW, I felt as if I were right there…lying in the hospital bed. “Why is tomorrow always farther away than yesterday?” I never thought about that…but this is so very true. And, yes, always VERY white sheets!

    Like

  6. Interesting. I wonder how many people have asked the same questions that your poem does at the end. Guess, we’ll never know.

    Like

  7. “Even to pass me a plate of cold sorrow”. What a striking line! I really feel this one, Rajani. The three blind rodents of hopelessness waiting for morning especially.

    Like

  8. I love the way you portray darkness, Rajani, especially:
    ‘…darkness cannot find its own hands, even
    to pass me a plate of cold sorrow. Only your absence sits still at
    the foot of my bed, unwilling to look at me. I feel its presence
    like a steel handrail, unyielding, telling me why I cannot get up
    and leave…’
    I also like ‘ blindfolded night’ and the reference to the three blind mice.

    Like

Share your thoughts:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.