Waiting Room

It is a Monday which has the aroma of a roasted Saturday,

Crisp and calm.
I am in the hospital waiting for my Dad to be discharged from the pain he feels in his body,

I see people walking pass me like I am a street light with a faulty lamp holder.
A man’s illusions made him call on me to ask me where his phone was.

Really? Phone?

I said  to myself “I know where your pills are”
New borns and new moms

New dads with huge pads

Eyes, glittering joy.

The walls are the witnesses to the seen and unseen, said and unsaid prayers.
But today, I have seen prayers evaporate from the lips of a dying man,

He smelled like regret wrapped in a life of ignorance.

This same day I have listened to family members cry the tears of lost hope.

If only they could look into my tired eyes,

Words would have been blinked to say ” He will be fine “.
I still feel the thrill of the pill

I took to fight malaria,

This is not the usual me, not in my area!
Lesson ” live the life till you can’t find the word to define  ‘Fulfilment’, because you are the youngest you could ever be and the oldest you could ever be Today ”
I send a prayer to my Dad. Get well soon

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