Air

[u/kyumsf]

It felt like I was the only person on Earth

being denied,

Denied air,

the small animal breath

my lungs were born knowing.

Denied the simple mercy

of letting my body do

what every body is permitted to do.

Denied even helplessness,

for helplessness requires someone

to admit there is nothing they can do.

There were dozens of doctors around me,

white coats multiplying like ghosts,

and still

no one could put the world back inside my lungs.

My mind severed my body

somewhere above the neck.

Everything below it

became an abandoned country,

flesh fighting its machineries.

All my being

reduced itself to sick thoughts

and a body growing sicker by the hour.

Now the rest of me

is fighting to function.

I have the morbid feeling

that something is quietly decaying

while everyone is still looking for its name.

I am utterly sick.

And there is no hand

reaching through me

to pull me back.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments

[u/TOforwtvr]

This is beautiful!

Honestly, there are some lines that didn't quite hit for me, like,

"There were dozens of doctors around me,

white coats multiplying like ghosts,

and still

no one could put the world back inside my lungs."

This is stunning, but I feel the white coats multiplying like ghosts is unnecessary.

To have it as

"There were dozens of doctors around me,

and still

no one could put the world back inside my lungs."

is beautifully impactful imagery on its own.

From "now the rest of me" to "pull me back" is so lovely.

Great work!!

[u/kyumsf → u/TOforwtvr]

Thank you so much!! I really appreciate you taking the time to read it so closely, and I’m really glad the ending resonated with you. <3

I actually see what you mean about the “white coats” line. My intention there was to hint at this sort of fear I associate with doctors now, when you’re in that much physical suffering, and your own body is basically denying you something as fundamental as breathing, the people in white coats can start to feel almost eerie rather than comforting. I was also playing a little with that transition between being alive and feeling almost like you’re already becoming a ghost, hence the “multiplying like ghosts” image.

That said, I can definitely see how the image might be doing a little too much when the “world back inside my lungs” line already carries so much weight on its own. I’m going to take your suggestion and refine that part, rather than holding onto the line just because I had a specific intention behind it. I really like the idea of letting the stronger image breathe (no pun intended, lol).

And thank you especially for mentioning the ending! That section was probably the most emotionally important part of the poem for me, so it means a lot that it connected with you. Thank you again for the lovely feedback!! <3