The Waiting Room

The Waiting Room

I sit among the silent cries,

among the restless and the wearied-eyed,

among the warriors who refuse defeat,

fighting a battle that can’t be beat.

I sit among the silent prayers,

Asking God to save their hair,

Bargaining for their uncertain lives,

Pleading for a proper goodbye.

I sit among the haunted,

Followed by death since years forgotten,

A seat carved with their name.

A coffin playing the waiting game.

I sit with my mom,

With her silent cries and weary eyes,

Next to her carved out chair,

In the waiting room of Dana Farber,

Because I could not bear,

Her coffin.