The granite like tiles made no sense for a hospital floor
Why would gold sparkling specks against cloud-white belong?
The phone in the waiting room would ring ever so often
Giving reassurance and the latest updates to prevent undue worry
Coffee was free along with a soda machine that took plastic cash
Faux leather chairs and sofas spread across the room for resting
And then there was an elevator where two men in scrubs got out
To make their way over. "It doesn't look good," one said
"No! Try your best. Go back and fight. Make it happen!"
Prayers, tears, agony, pleading, phone calls, and hope
But once again, the elevator opened. Time of death 12:23am.
About the Creator
Shirley Belk
Mother, Nana, Sister, Cousin, & Aunt who recently retired. RN (Nursing Instructor) who loves to write stories to heal herself and reflect on all the silver linings she has been blessed with :)
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
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More stories from Shirley Belk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Becca
"Everything is so... flat." Denille said stupidly as she looked around her new neighborhood. She looked around at the muted desert where even the smallest sign of life seemed to have given up. The plant life was shrubs that were half cooked by the heat and where there should have been a lawn, a mess of white rocks laid glistening in the sun. Even the sky looked stretched thin, like the sun had ironed it smooth. She’d moved from Riverside, where at least there were hills, but here in Barstow, everything felt baked and brittle.
By Sara Wilson8 days ago in Fiction
Comments (12)
I absolutely love it!❤️❤️❤️✨️
This is sad, but real. I got a pit in my stomach reading it. I hope that it wasn't real. Nicely done poem, again, I'm hoping it isn't real
I love your story beautifully written, well done!🙂🙏❤️
The detail about the gold sparkling specks in the hospital floor is what won’t leave me — how something so decorative and almost pretty can exist in a room where someone’s whole world is about to shatter. And that line, “No! Try your best. Go back and fight. Make it happen!” felt so painfully human… like bargaining with people who are already carrying the weight of the inevitable. The way you stayed with the minutia — the coffee, the plastic cash, the elevator doors — made the 12:23am land even harder. I keep thinking about how grief really does cling to the smallest, strangest details in a room. When you look back on that night now, is it still those tiny visual things that surface first?
So sad :-( We always have far too much time in hospital waiting rooms to notice the tiny details like the flooring.
The moments poets notice... this was beautifully written, and I love how you opposed it with the harshness of reality.
That was ...a stark look at reality. Moving, Shirley, and real.
This poem was sad incredibly moving. You have a real knack for using physical textures like the gold sparkling specks and faux leather to ground the reader in a setting that feels both sterile and surreal.
Oh no. That's a glimpse into a world of sadness. The waiting, the delivery of the message and that last statement hits hard, Shirley.
This was so sad and emotional. Sending you lots of love and hugs 🥺❤️
Oh no. That would be hard but I imagine at some point the docs get used to it? Giving the news? I’m sure you wrote this from experience- I’m sorry.
COOL