Day 357 of 2025
“Healing's Four-Hour Vigil Before Stillness”
instrumental· 65s
generating...
INVENTORY OF A TREATMENT ROOM, TUESDAY
One table, draped.
One clock, ticking toward the first hands.
Fourteen needles, silver, each thinner than a wish.
One practitioner's breath, held, then released.
One patient's shoulder, carrying December.
One window, catching morning, losing it.
Seven hours of standing.
Two hundred small decisions made by touch.
One lunch, eaten standing, looking at clouds.
One moment between patients when the room
belongs to no one
and is therefore perfect.
One evening, 16 degrees, walking home.
One fox, possibly imagined.
One Christmas, approaching whether or not
anyone is ready.
Zero things left undone.