Monday 9 October 2017


 Jeanne Davies

brandy sour

In a vast alien space filled with dull echoes from a cold polished floor, they are suspended.  Hurting and scared, their erratic pulses and bated breaths echo and ricochet off the walls. 
Brittle noises from shiny instruments spike the silence and palpable fear overwhelms those who are not sleeping.  Regular beats of monitors offer little comfort to those who wait in the dimness.
Captive in their fragile bodies, they have nowhere else to go, or run to … if only they could.  They wait for daylight, for hope, and for healing of wounds that go much deeper than the surface.

No comments:

Post a Comment