Was the insect-like figure
pinned to the empty wall of my white ward
wings spread eagled (or were they arms?)
A display for scientific study?
A bird of prey looking for a victim?
A high diver readying to glide?
A decoration avoided by superstitious
renovators?
Then it hit me. No, none of these.
It was him in extremis.
Him whom crowds once rushed to
like this hospital
begging for relief, even healing.
A reminder that hospitals
are also places of pain pre-gain,
Him whom no-one came to relieve
and now unrecognised by most
of the vast diaspora that works
this 24/7 oasis of mercy and magic.
Looking down not in anger but in sorrow
at the violent and unjust world
that violated him and all innocents alike,
At humanity still struggling with itself.
And the corruption of his message.
(This is a bit stark. Apologies. But it gave me a chance to have a shot at the state of the world, Trump, my own no fun in extremis and to connect to an injustice that changed the world but that, though increasingly bypassed, started this amazing place .... in between pricks, drugs and also a lot of blood letting. Haha. Its first words are meant to capture the imagined reactions from the very diverse staff and visitors at St Vincent's Hospital. October 2025).
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