Upon Being Banished from the Palliative Care Ward, April 15, 2026
Anne sits alone in her erstwhile chamber
where sunlight no longer spills.
Silent, ineffable words lost somewhere in the hush
of her transfigured mind, yet nothing escapes her notice.
She counts each kindness of nurses, counsellors, personal caregivers,
by its weight, the shape
of sacrifice pressed into her palm
like the memory of a promised land
now snatched away.
Sadness visits in gentle waves,
never harsh, but persistent
as the moon’s refusal to let go of night.
She tastes gratitude with every breath,
her gaze luminous as if to say
I see you, I know your giving.
Even betrayal settles quietly in her chest,
a stone among feathers: heavy, but not unforgivable.
Speechless, Anne loves without measure,
exiled from a blessed realm, yet holding its wonders
in the silent, endless reaches of her heart.
Anne is being transferred from the palliative care ward of St. Vincent’s Hospital in Ottawa to a long-term advanced illness ward. The turmoil surrounding this on-again, off-again transfer has caused her inexpressible sadness. This poem is a projection of what Anne, rendered non-verbal by her implacable disease, may be feeling as she contemplates banishment.
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
If you feel like keeping track of Anne’s cancer journey, I’m chronicling it in prose and poetry here:
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/news/