I wrote the first three lines of this poem while waiting in traffic. One thought — concerning my inability to write recently — smoothly transitioned into this; I can’t explain it any differently, but I one hundred percent attribute it to listening to rap. That may sound silly.

I religiously listen to rap when I’m feeling low. I had been listening to it all day — from good to bad to absolute goosebumb-worthy songs. It fills my brains with words and explains thoughts better than I can when my brain is running in circles, and that makes me feel better. Or, at least, more contemplative and focused.

The next day, in traffic again, more lines showed up in my brain. I got home and wrote another poem. So, today I’m challenging myself to go for three days. Three days, three poems, three songs that helped me. And they’ll all be here.

This is the poem that showed up on the first day. I repeated the first few lines over and over again in my head so I wouldn’t forget them before I got home. Then, I wrote the whole poem with pen and paper — another thing I never do.

The song below it, I attribute to making me realize for the hundredth time that rap is my cure-all for low spirits. Maybe next time, I’ll remember right away.

Enjoy.

From a Few Hospital Beds

I never thought this could be peaceful.
I thought all the beds were white, but mine –
Some shade of rose is peeking through. Rays
Through the window highlight dust on the
Air. Nurses pushing in send specks on
Currents through the glare. They come and go.
They come and go sometimes as though
I’m not really here. And I’m still here
(Sometimes).

The dust settles somewhere outside the sun – drifts
Into shadow from wherever it comes from – but
Cannot seem to touch the petals at my pillowside.
Yellow roses mimic light at the window competing
For glow, or working together to show that light
Does not ever go ignored: but rather, absorbed.

Outside the hospital walls I hear some children
Screaming – carried through the window, through
The screen – until their laughter is distant echoes
In ear drums still trying to see. And I wonder briefly
In what rooms these children have been: if their bedsheets
Are white. Or show some shade of rose – like mine –
Or gold – or Amaranth Pink and the color the sky turns
When it meets the sea.

In mid-waking, I’m caught mid-dreaming and maybe
That’s why the light outside looks so damn bright. Eyes
Squinted against everything, to make it all seem more serene:
Squints against white walls and glowing yellow petals,
Laughter carried in on dust mites in the sunlight, and rose
Colored sheets that are probably white.

I never thought this could be peaceful.
Not, at least, from this view of the bedside. I never thought
There’d be a window supporting light living inside
Flower petals or silence broken by echoes of grins
Left only to memory now. And as another nurse
Wanders in, specks of dust find their currents and
Dance through the space through dreams – and
I think, I think I’ll stay right here. And as my eyes
Close, the last thing I see is all the things I’ve never
Been. Is all the things we’ve ever been.

And as our eyes close all we see is light pouring from
Yellow rose petals into cold walls to mix with rose colored
Sheets and laughter outside hospital doors until this place –
This space is peaceful as the sun, finally, goes down.

Stay gold,
Sabrina