The landline rang breaking
the silence of the quiet morning,
I awoke, but didn’t get up,
It felt like a forewarning.
It’s shrill song pierced my ears,
I froze on my bed, eyes filled with tears,
My mind screaming over the racket,
‘Ignore it, it will make it not real’
Mum’s in the hospital,
Tubes down her throat,
She can’t be getting any better
If someone’s calling at 4.
I hear my father pick up,
His silence is loud and clear,
I hide under my blanket
Wisps of hope destroyed by mounting fear.
I don’t want to hear it,
The terrible news he brings,
I shatter, I break when he speaks,
what I knew had happened from the very first ring.
4 thoughts on “#17 The Call”
This is a sad poem many of us fear with parents growing older, especially now with covid. If it’s real, so sorry for your loss. Sad but very good.
Thank you. 🙂
This poem captures so clearly that moment when you know a difficult truth but don’t want to face it because it’s too heartbreaking.
Very well captured…loss…and the impending knowledge of loss…and the journey ahead to recovering from it.