FACES UNSEE 1940
With my hands
I move myself
to the side of the bed,
and stare around
with sightless eyes,
wondering if the nurse
put the commode
near the bed
as she said she would.
I try to balance
on one hand
as I search around
with the other.
The pain
in my leg stumps
nags at me
each time I move.
I touch
the commode arm,
and try and move myself
in a position,
that I may
be able to get
on the commode,
but as I move forward
I fall into darkness,
and hit my head,
and land on my back,
and stare into
a painful blackness.
Grace,
a voice says,
what are you doing?
I face the voice:
I wanted to get
on the commode,
I say.
You must ask,
the voice says.
I want to be
independent,
I say.
Not just yet;
now keep still
while we assess you
for damage,
the voice says.
She calls out for help;
I hear footsteps
running and another
voice says,
what's Grace
doing on the floor?
She was trying to get
on the commode
by herself,
the other voice says.
Shall I call a doctor
to examine her?
I'm all right,
I say,
nothing broken;
just the usual
pains and aches.
Your head is bleeding,
a voice says;
other voices come.
I lie still
and stare at
the darkness
around me,
attempting to stare
at faces
I cannot see.
