The Visit by Nijole Miliauskaite

endless corridors
the convent’s interior garden
worn stairs
doors, white wards
numbing cold
fetters the feet, the hands
persistently hidden
eyes full of fear
with my last ounce of strength
I recognize
the walk, the movement of the arm
beneath the trees
on the grass people are eating
it is difficult to imagine
how much suffering there is
in waiting rooms, operating rooms, crossroads
a face
a selfish healthy joy
beyond the gates
summer, heat, wind blows
my hair and white dress, I need something to drink!
endless corridors
a labyrinth
silent madness
and perhaps: suicide
***
so much horror
in this peaceful landscape
as if it had been
stricken by paralysis
a scream remaining
behind clenched teeth
walked outside the windows
knocked about the attic
rummaged through the books and laundry
sniffed around all the corners
with a bat’s sensitive ears
fixated on the hospital’s heavy breathing
a paralyzed landscape
he lies with eyes open
face twisted
given up to your will
an aimed
blow to the belly
to the empty place below the ribs
the sky descends
like a metal press
from beneath which will spurt
the grape’s acidic juices