I lie on a hospital bed, in a dark
room,
Severely ill with pneumonia in my
right lung.
Semi-conscious, I feel the mattress
move.
Hallucination! No! I hear the edges
of the bed creaking.
A silent slender creature moves in
curving motions inside the mattress.
Is it aware of me? Does it know I'm
here? Does it care I'm here?
Near
mortally wounded
I
float on ocean depths.
I
sleep, I dream, I wake,
Or
not.
Dark
waters undulate, support me.
In
waking dream, my lungs red and swollen, weep, weep.
Their
tears flow, sorrowful rivulets into the deep waters.
Do
I sense rhythm in the ocean currents?
No!
I am alone!
My
spirit spins a tale, a long forgotten dream
Of
deep dark waters, alive.
Tracing
silent curves beneath me,
A
large creature sings a wordless melody;
The
melody is its name - ambunAtha (Lord of the Waters).
I'm confused. Caregivers say, 'Good
morning'. I think it's late afternoon.
Someone wakes me at night to take
vital signs. I think it's early morning.
Gradually, I know day from night.
With immense effort, I sit up and
take food.
Medication and inhalation therapy
begin healing my right lung.
It still weeps, but less each day.
The
dream fades,
as
dreams do.
The
song of ambunAtha diminishes to near silence.
The
waters give way, and I walk again upon land,
weakly
but with increasing strength.
My
lungs grow stronger. I stride across many lands.
Sometimes my spirit still whispers
the dream, softly, too rarely.
The song of ambunAtha remains.
Always.
- RJ Christopher
