Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash

A room of hope, a room of care,
A room of risk, a room of dare.

Grey recliners arranged for distance
Safe and good, spaced for pandemic days,
Surrounded by poles that each is near,
So, a bag of life can be hung and weighed.

Bags of liquids, bags of drugs, bags of life,
Bags of chemicals, health-giving chemicals,
Bags with tubes, bags with holes,
Dripping fast, dripping slow,
Dripping into arms, legs, ports, and veins,
So, the body can be treated with liquids giving life.

Wires through pumps, regulating flows of the drugs
Running from vials to veins,
Evaluating how the drugs will go
From flasks of meds into life-giving blood.

Pillows in cases, stacked nearby
To bring comfort to reclining frames,
Souls praying and hoping that the medicines
Will bring changes to T-cells, to systems for immunity,
To the hearts and minds of suffering bodies,
Each needing an infusion of sustenance and cure.

© 2020 Robert Faron

Retired, but not from life and love, adding poetry to a life exploring metaphor.