your eyes, they sting
this incense burns
this holy of holies is too much

& you can't draw the curtain,
can't enter the tabernacle

you shut your eyes,
you try not to breathe

you can't think of patients covered in feces
can't smell them soaked in piss
can't see this rotting flesh, these gaping wounds

keep the curtains closed! keeps the curtains closed!

you're covering your eyes, you're crying out
your mouth uttering gasps (of its own accord?!)

& how can you be grateful for something when every second of it hurts you-
when every moment is ripping you, is tearing out your heart?

i loathe walking into hospital rooms,
the feeling of invasion, of entering someone's private place,
someone's tiny sacred-space,
& what remains of dignity

keep the curtains closed!

but a whisper beckons us into the holiest of holies
a whisper leads us back again and again.