The light from outside,

Retreats as if from distaste,
From the ward,
Old windows beside bars,
Dull with indifference.

The routine of medication and meals,
Becomes a predictable template of time,
Slow and unmovable,
A cloudy unfocused negation,
Of self, of identity.

‘Open your mouth,
Now Swallow’ sighs the nurse,
Like a holy wafer of confirmation.
Are we sinners?

This is a Sample Poem from the Winter 2024 issue of Asylum magazine (31.4).  To read more, subscribe to Asylum.