Styx and Sarcoma

From where I waited, the River Styx looked like an ocean. It stretched beyond the sandy banks where I stood, weaving its way through rooms and hallways. The water floated in air, like spirits do. I knew it to be cold to the touch. In that sea of white coats, I saw a pallium: a black cloak draped over the ferryman. Charon—his eyes warm and smile frail— come to bring me home to a place of rest! Alas, his boat drifted onward; these timeworn eyes could not follow him for long. But tomorrow, I will wait on these banks again— till this coin is no longer in hand, till these feet are no longer on sand. Competing interestsNone. Provenance and peer reviewNot commissioned; internally peer reviewed.
Source: Medical Humanities - Category: Global & Universal Authors: Tags: Poetry and prose Source Type: research