Hospital Wildness

Note to Self/ Hospital Wildness

Beneath the hospital robe that doesn’t quite fit nor remotely flatter

The one that doesn’t rightly close at the back

And has been washed countless times

In industrial-sized machines

The one that has no name and was not made for me…

I am quite magnificent

Despite the experts, the statistics and the long-winded medical terms

We were born into these miraculous bodies

That none of us designed

And for which there is no definitive manual

Not so far below the stark corridors of stubbled paint

With their heavy disinfected walls, worn arrows and shiny floors

Lies the cool brown earth beneath

Calling to my bare feet

Reminding me of my wild and ancient family -

Stars, wolves and lilting fireside songs

Pterodactyls, songbirds and canyons

That rally around me

And reside within the woodsmoke upon my collar

Beyond the multiple-choice questionnaire

the uniforms, hospital number, frowning faces, wheelchair and ticking clocks

I remain untamed, vast and free - supported by infinite kin

Noone knows my destiny

Nor holds the keys to the mystery that sculpted me

Behind the roles we play; doctors, patients

We are all vulnerable, all mighty

And the true healer of disease

Is older than any of us