Kwong Wai Shiu Hospital, 6.15 p.m

Here's a re-post of a poem I published in this blog earlier. It is something I wrote for my mother, she has since passed on. I thought I will write something less dreary, but the darn muse is still missing.

This work is part of a batch I submitted to a poetry competition.


photo from : www.freeimages.co.uk
image was enhanced.


Kwong Wai Shiu Hospital, 6.15 p.m


i hate it.
who likes the stench of dried spit ?
the stuffy air of ageing wards
the stares of the old pitifuls
eyes blank as lost memories.

but can't leave Mother.
she lies helpless on that bed
the stroke was that horrendous.
have to change her sheets
bits of rice still sticks to it,
the attendants are so careless

she smiles when i come.
there can be joy at such places
light in darkness.
i hold her frail hands
smiling my plastic smile
the grief in my heart
all bottled up
seeing her wasting, bones and all,
like that peeling paint on the wall.

who likes the stench of dried pee?
not you, not me.

--- 1998 ---