Night Vigil (poem) by Dallas D'Angelo-Gary on AuthorsDen

Night Vigil
by Dallas D'Angelo-Gary → (All Poetry by Dallas D'Angelo-Gary)
Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Seemingly eternal nights
Night Vigil Bvooop! The IV pump groans in the silence -- nothing seems to change. The child sleeps fitfully. The corners of her mouth curl into grimace. Bvooop! Nostrils flare, then narrow, eyebrow twitches, legs stretch -- sleep made fitful fighting 'gainst the pain. Bvooop! Butterfly balloon caught in conditioned air beats its head against the wall in sympathetic anguish. Bvooop! Morphine monsters chase her down shadowed halls, muscles tense, release. "No!" She cries. Soft caresses ease the stress. Bvooop! Spinoza the bear sits alone in a corner, a denim hat pulled down over one eye, his arms open wide as if to say, "Somebody hold me -- please?" Bvooop! Mom's gentle fingers caress hot, dry skin for whatever comfort they can bring. Healing comes in many forms. Bvooop! Mom's touch is helpful medicine to calm the fitful mind. Mom pauses oft to wipe her own moistened cheeks. Bvooop! A clutter of bags hangs, space debris in orbit over the IV pump, trailing lines become alien tentacles, writhing across the bed. Bvooop! The nurse comes in to check IVs and draw the blood for labs every hour, every hour... every hour. Cries of pain demonstrate sore skin and bones -- every hour, every hour. Bvooop! Lights flash in the darkness: space age pumps provide the best hope science can offer against the pain, against disease. Bvooop! The IV pump groans in the silence -- nothing seems to change. The child sleeps fitfully. Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 99

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on July 4, 2009

I know the monster morphine, and sleep fitfully every night, now. I hire someone to keep vigil to spare my family the grief of my long decline.

You wrote it all so well. I do not know if she survived. A friend, a psychiatrist, also in an electric wheelchair, lost his adopted stepson at 10.

Ron

Ron

Reviewed by L. Figgins

Reviewed on June 30, 2009

Know that sound and the vigils at my sister's bedside, in '98. A constant presence, cycling 'round like the pain. The butterfly balloon caught in air, the bear holding out his arms, morphine nightmares, alien tentacles. The images and sounds of this poem, as well as the repetition, are powerful vehicles that drive the meaning. Exceptionally well-written, Dallas...

Lin

Reviewed by Jms Bell

THE KIND OF NIGHTS DESCRIBED SO VIVIDLY IN THIS POEM...ARE HARD NIGHTS. ONE CAN ONLY GET THROUGH THEM BECAUSE YOU KNOW, IN SOME SMALL WAY, YOU HELP MAKE THE NIGHT MORE TOLERABLE FOR THE ONE YOU'RE CRYING FOR. GOD BLESS YOU AND YOURS AND THANKS FOR SHARING. JOYCE

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

O, this is powerful; I have been where this child was at! Not a fun place to be, I can rest assure you! Well penned, Dallas; bravo!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(

Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)

Beautiful and descriptive. Well done Dallas.

Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner

Night Vigil(s), captured vividly because of experience - been where you are. How well I know those IV pumps! When Karen was so sick and hers would sound, we'd do the IV dance - bong, bong, bong ... LOL Well done, Dallas!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.