They got me home alive

 

When I was in the mirror I’d reflect

On what happened in the office yesterday

And what I should do on the day ahead

To make sure my ogre’s vehemence

Goes away.

 

I’d toss my hair across, this way, and that –

So long as it was curly I’d want straight.

I’d wondered if he’d listen when at work

Or whether he’d ask for me to speak

A day too late.  

 

It wasn’t like the mirror I’d seen when

I was young. Those memories – I have lost the lot.

Other than the hazy face, those thirty seconds

Just went black. A precious moment – in time –

That time forgot.

 

Hospitals have lost their welcome mat, and

Are quick to change the patient in their bed.

When I have stayed I’ve tried so hard to walk

Back out the door. But they’ve told me; “wait, you’ll

Be needing surgery, instead.”

 

But what must it have been like for those I left at home?

Parental sacrifice means you put your loved ones first.

A sense of loving others before you love yourself

Is the essence of belief in what I call

‘The family stone’.

 

My scar is a reminder of my second chance to thrive.

Thank goodness it’s been given by those who

Love me as I am. They’re the ones that hold me,

That mould me into me. They’re the ones

That got me home, alive. 

Published by Owen Tilley