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Lanelle
Christman
How We Are Made Light |
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Pity the visitors
bent under shopping bags,
who have their huge hats
here where there are no seasons,
who run from station to station
with a question so inconsequential
even we patients smile.
Admire the nurse
and the aide
who fill out a form,
one beginning at the front,
the other at the end,
speaking of Dave Matthews,
and the concert I couldn't see.
Exalt the doctors
washing side by side,
discussing even greater doctors,
setting up afternoon tee times.
Revere the orderlies
who have come across the sea
to wheel us through the corridors
to a place where we will be tested,
where we will finally belong,
even more inherently than here,
where we will no longer be watchers
but the matter itself,
flesh and soul transposed
to degrees on a scale of radiance.