Walls
that keep out
the world's incessant need
to interfere,
and doors
that only let in love.
A quiet solitude
for the ministrations
that bring the half-dead
back to life,
that exorcize
the demons carried over
from normality,
and windows
that admit
just the right amounts of sun
as catalyst
to the process,
a balm
to festering sores.
A peace
undisturbed
by the moans
of the suffering
as their suffering
melts away,
and a salubrious bliss
settles in,
fleeting
or permanent,
who is to say?
An aura
that tempers
the heat
of body & mind,
and interprets anew
all meanings
of tenderness,
of passion,
of care.
This is a hospice
for bruised souls
