Day 995

For Dr. Abu Safiya

How many days now
has it been
since they put you in solitary?
What can you measure the time by?
Light comes and disappears
through the narrow space
under the door to your cell:
is that daylight? A naked bulb
someone randomly turns on and off?
If there’s a meal — a piece
of bread, a cup
of watery soup — does that
signal breakfast? dinner?
You are alone and yet
not alone. Your hours
are populated by the screams
of patients you cared for, the sobs
of their mothers, hands
reaching toward you for help,
the voice of your son
lying under the earth
on the hospital grounds.
They crowd the small space
you’re confined in, torment you
with your frailty, your
helplessness, reach
for you in your fitful sleep.
How, if your lawyer
or anyone surviving
from your family
Is ever permitted to see you — how
will you know
the living from the dead?