Feeling

A clean white room, dimly lit,
No clock on the bare wall,
A single chair in the middle,
Inviting and repealing all at once.

Sit back in silence, wait,
The padding is misleadingly comfortable,
Voices chase from the hallway behind,
Extending the day with timeless anticipation.

They walk in, together, a team,
Take invisible positions to my sides,
Their voices friendly, engaging,
Will they hurt me? Will it be fast?

Movement. I drop back, then rise,
Bright light is shining in my face,
Jaw-dropping, high-pitch sounds,
Eyes closed, I depart to another dimension.

A storm is brewing within me,
Gushing waters, swirling winds,
The sounds are deafening,
I am free, but am utterly bound.

Some unknown time later,
I am recalled from my sanctuary,
The tempest had subsided,
They help me back on my feet.

Walk toward the door, freedom,
I am not yet out, not yet,
The voice again behind me, warning,
Don’t eat or drink for another hour.

 

January 29, 2019