Looking Over Jesus
The wheels squealed as the curtain unsealed,
Blistering daylight revealed acres of green field --
But the barred windows obscured the sight,
His eyes were delight, the yoke of his eye bright,
And yet, depression held solace over his life,
Lacking a wife, his path was laced only with strife.
Early morning clarity was all to praise,
Before the day's meds caused psychological delays.
So there he sits, eyes lit with sober wit,
Waiting for his door slit to spit the usual skit:
Sterile white coats holding rainbows of pills,
An intense feeling accompanied by shivering chills.
.
.
Tap, Tap, Tap
.
.
The fist rapt at the reinforced door,
Swinging open, a lone shadow was cast over the floor.
His eyebrow twitching, the patient leaped to his feet,
This fleeting chance of freedom was indiscreet
But it would sufficiently suffice,
Twice he had considered, and had paid the price.
Flinging his wheelchair aside, he lunged at the white coat,
Grasping the man's throat, he thrashed as if a wild goat.
The white coat thrusting a fistful of pills into his mouth,
The patient swallowed uneasily, as the pills tumbled south.
Enraged he clutched the man's chin,
Twisting violently, a crunch embodied his sin.
Crumpling on the floor, the patient cracked a smile,
Jumping over the pile, his actions felt worthwhile.
.
.
.
Peering down the hall, he began to walk,
His lucidity fading -- he felt brittle as chalk.
Confused feet swept along the smooth plastic,
Fingers elastic, his movements felt enthusiastic.
The patient began to collapse under his weight;
Ornate walls diffused into his psychological state.
Falling to his side, the patient burst into a darkened room,
The gloom eased only by light candlelit fume.
Gathering himself, he braced himself against a painting,
Trying to resist fainting, his energy ever-draining --
The sleeve of his robe dangled into the candle flame,
And there in the dark he saw an object of pure disdain --
A statue of Jesus, stood defiantly, glaring into his eye,
Aflame, he laughed, as his clothes fluttered goodbye.
.
.
There they faced each other, flame and peace,
Falling onto the statue, the patient finally felt ease.
All he had wanted was to touch the cool grass below,
He was at peace now, but could no longer grow --
Movements slow, the statue was engulfed in the fire,
The two figures becoming one; a morbid image meant to inspire.
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