Abstract
If the walls of our hospital could talk, they would whisper—
Remember the tenderness
The doctor on her knee holding the hand of
The young bride in her hospital bed
clad in white with breath barely
To say I do
Remember the touch of the nurse practitioners
Administering kindness that heals
When medications cannot
The walls would share shielded secrets
The beloved pet sneaked in by the security guard
The curse words spoken by the chaplain—yes the older one,
Who appears younger than stated age!
The countless ways we join those we care for,
In a moment of heaven, or the torment of hell
These walls would resound with laughter, with weeping,
With clap outs. Where the impossible is sometimes seen and the
Inevitable demands its due. With or without acceptance.
If these walls could talk, they would scream
Re balance—
Re imagine—
Re mind—
Start with yourself. Change is an inside job.
And then breathe it out—this energy to
RE form, TRANS form, IN form
We must bring death back to life
Accept our place on Mother Earth
Peer through the smoke and
See the fires for what they are
A burning call to LIVE SIMPLY and SIMPLY DIE
The walls ARE talking. Can you hear them?
They thank us. For being here. For our courage AND our fears.
For resurrecting them with art of the young and old.
The color. The beauty. The grace.
These walls invite us to lean in, and to lean on them; most importantly to
Lean on one another. Walls were created to be connected.
And so, dear friends, are we.
Written June 8, 2023, for an inaugural art/open mic event hosted by my Palliative Care Team. That day the sky and air of NYC were smoke-filled from the Canadian wildfires.