Friday, 16 October 2015


The floors shone
Someone had spent all night
Polishing them
Lysol-scented air
Free from contagion
Room 412, I knock
Slide open the heavy door
My friend is wan
His face is wasted, the cheeks
Once full, show the ridges of bones
I hold him and his shoulders are hangers
His eyes are now too wide behind glasses that are too large
His hair black and thick sits too heavy on his scalp
We look at each other
And he tells me how it has been
How tough it has been
And why the journey must go on
Even though he admits
That there was one moment when he awoke
In another hospital far away
He felt fine
There was no pain, only a certain peace and he thought
This is the best time to go
But if only I could
I would have got up, shrugged off my wasted body
Walked through the eternal door
And leave this world

(Liew Suet Fun)

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