Shitty Poetry-type stuff.

I realize I'm treading dangerously close to the MommyBlog line...but hey, my kid is why I'm doing this Blogathon. For United Cerebral Palsy.

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So, my kids were born at 24 weeks and spent a LOT of time in the hospital. In fact, it seems that no sooner did they get out that they went back in.

At Children's Hospital here, when you're in the 4th floor ward, there's a big courtyard where I spent a lot of time trying to...unthink, and smoking.

One night I happened to have a pencil and a napkin and wrote...well, I don't want to even call it a poem. It's more like a doodle.
It sucks. But that's okay.

Past The Door

Eyes downcast
Strangers passing by
Never looking
Into the faces of others
Bound together by fear,
loneliness, anger, resentment
Never speaking
Except to ask for a light
Smoking in silence
Each cigarette a tiny beacon
in the dark of night
The smoke obscuring expression
Alone with churning thoughts
in a group of many
Worry etched on each face
Helplessness in each eye
Never hoping
Afraid of what tomorrow might bring
Silent anonymity is a cloak
Protection from the unknown.