Let the clouds pass over the northeastern hills of this Calgarian neighbourhood,
Spanning centuries and centuries of anguish and hatred.
And let the clouds pass over the schools, the classrooms,
Beside the souls who cluelessly sit on the same chairs every day.
Filled with tears- hospitalizations- I, restrained, screaming in the hospital:
Trying to make sense of what is happening around me,
With thousands of voices screaming to dissect my skin.
With blood flowing from my skin, and the nurses rushing to take care of me,
And I, confused, worn out, lay myself in the bed, screaming.
Bottles are open; the pills now digested; I find myself in the same bed over and over again,
In agony. Trying to be free from the voices. Trying to not be seen.
And so the rain will fall over the hospital, and snow will fall;
Then the voices will quiet down, with the physical agony in me, now awakening:
You overestimated the value of life. Did you not? You thought life was to be eliminated.
But now, here you are, fighting for your life. Fighting to stay awake in your seizures.
Fighting to save your health, your weight, your friends- everything. And now you say your life is foul?
The muscles in me shrinking, life disappearing. Life, now so precious, lessening.
And I told myself: this is just the beginning. Hold on.
Yes, you may not live long, but hold on. You may live long, but hold on.
When you will go, you will go. Just not now.
Think of the children. Think of their poor souls. Think of the adults without a cure.
Not long, but still here, aren’t you?
Just not now.