Wednesday, January 05, 2011

On the locked ward again

Reprising a poem that I wrote during Gabriel's first major psychotic still rings true today as he once again finds himself wrestling with the demons behind locked doors.

On the locked ward

They walk.
Through pale green halls
They walk.
Perhaps they flee their demons
Or maybe they pursue them.
Pacing, pacing back and forth,
Pacing racing thoughts,
Moving to define
The boundary between themselves
And the world in which they move.

They watch.
With haunted eyes
They watch
A scene unseen by others.
Others can only see the reaction
On their faces:
Bewilderment, horror,
Amusement, interest.
The silent movie plays
For an audience of one.

They listen.
To compelling voices
They listen.
Voices that will not be still
Cajole and threaten,
Command and seduce,
Demanding to be heard
Through their own resounding echoes.