Poetry About Coming Home From Hospital

The key turns slowly in the familiar lock. Clean sheets wait beneath the bedroom lamp. Pill bottles line the table like small clocks. The body crosses rooms it used to hurry through. Outside, a neighbor closes the garden gate. Home feels ordinary, and therefore immense.

Return once more to the exact detail. Clean sheets wait beneath the bedroom lamp. Its silence contains more than we expected. Outside, a neighbor closes the garden gate. Careful seeing becomes its own reply. Home feels ordinary, and therefore immense.

The key turns slowly in the familiar lock. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. Pill bottles line the table like small clocks. It returns us to recovery, familiar rooms, medication, fatigue, gratitude, and the strange tenderness of returning. Outside, a neighbor closes the garden gate. The day continues with a more attentive heart.