I have been away for a while – but am back – and will be sharing some of my poetry…

The VIP Room

‘The builder of the nation is dead.

But he was old,’

they said.

 

On the 6^th floor, in the VIP room

Of our National flagship hospital

He lay.

6 weeks

he waited for his hip to be fixed

only to be

buried with it untouched!

 

‘The builder of the nation is dead.

But he was old,’

they said.

Waiting 3 days

For the physician to come

and then have the surgeon disappear –

To a conference, they say.

 

His health ebbed away,

As he lay on his back.

Then his stomach ached.

So they cut him open

And stitched up his gut

His hip still untouched

 

The builder of the nation is dead

But he was old,

They said.

 

On the 6^th floor, in the VIP room

Of our National flagship hospital

He lay.

‘Here, take this blood

QUICK to that lab in town

It will do tests we need!

We rush around, vials of blood in our bags

to get the results they need.

There is a lab

In the Flagship you know

But mostly it does not work

 

Results in hand

We rush back to the room

But the Dr only returns the next day!

 

The head nurse refuses to give

Sterilized hospital bedding,

 ‘Washing machines destroy them, you know. 

Ward X has none left, for they used the machines

– but I still have all my sheets!’

 

I look at the nurse who

starts her ward round at 11, 

takes blood samples hours after the doctor’s request!

Bile rises inside

but as I open my mouth to speak

someone says…

‘Don’t antagonize the nurse ,

Be grateful that she is here.’

 

‘The builder of the nation is dead.

But he was old,’

they said.

In the VIP room on the 6^th floor, of our

National flagship hospital

We love him and pray for him

It is all we can do

Impotent against a complacent system

that is grateful for crumbs!

 

Slowly he starts slipping away

 

He vomited all last night

(in the VIP room on the 6^th floor

of the national flagship hospital),

But the nurses would not come

‘Too many patients,’,they said

‘And at least you are there.’

As the sun drew over the horizon

His vomit turned to blood

And still no nurse came.

So we took out our phones

And called the doctors we knew.

‘Please come,’ we cried

To the VIP room, on the 6^th floor

Of our national flagship.

‘We really do not know what to do!’

 

Off to ICU he goes

And still no sterilized sheets.

‘Bring his blankets and pillows too –

And take off your shoes when you come in!’

 

 

Early Sunday morning

The ward phone rings and

a nurse comes round the door

‘They want one of you to go

to ICU,

they need to talk to you’

I hurry and dress

For I am young and quick

And when I enter

I see

The builder of the nation is gone

And his nation staggers along.