Hospital sights: White prismed. Rainbows unprisoned.

 

Can you hear me?

Or am I a broken radio;

Shouting questions that have now lost their colour

When will this pandemic end?

When can I go home?

When can I eat and drink the food I love?

When will I have autonomy over my body?

​

Do you not hear, this lie that tomorrow is still worth fighting for;

Can you really show me that this broken body can heal once more?

Can you hear me, can you hear me?

​

Can you see me?

I’m the one with a coat

Among a colour that has no feeling. 

Among a colour that chokes(!)

This limited space, with concrete and bedsheets.

But I am a kind of moving colour

That whimpers with your tears; 

That bleeds in the daylight

And throbs in the moonlight.

Every day I ask myself

May we flood this white desert with fire?

Can we prismize this splintered landscape

And cast down from heaven seven colours?

Can you see me, can you see me?

​

Let me sleep one hour longer tonight;

Let me hug a tree before I forget how she looks like.

​

Tell me that I’m not going crazy

Tell me that I’m not a robot operating in a bleached-world fantasy.

​

Your colours paint my sky;

My sunsets, my sunrise.

​

Would you be so kind to

Point to the rainbow for my swelling eyes;

Name the seven colours for me to hear.

 

Then hold my hand, I can teach you

How to stand up and walk across the rainbow again.

I can hear you, I can see you;

We’ll use sunshine to paint through this rain.