Betrayed by the very beat that gives me life.
From birth I’ve been broken.
My own heart my enemy.
My heart, held in the hands of strangers.
Trying again and again to mend me.
Sprawled naked and cold on operating table steel.
I see warm eyes,
hear soothing voices from behind the masks
as I shiver in the chill,
surrendering to these would-be healers.
So little and stubborn and strong
my spirit fought to live
for another hour
another day
another year.
The beep beep beep of monitors
Was the monotone music of fluorescent hospital rooms.
Days filled with the too-kind smiles of caregivers.
Stabbed by drains and IVs…the painful necessities.
Restless nights spent on scratchy sheets.
Mornings bringing parents oozing love and fear.
Kisses and hugs and smiles and tears being their
only means to ease the pain.
So much pain for a child to endure.
But breath keeps moving.
And from that battle I healed.
From that battle another scar.
From that battle another morning to face.
No matter how intoxicating the call of sleep,
the darkness wouldn’t grant me its peace yet.
Years passed with more skirmishes,
more anxious doctor visits, more nights in a hospital.
Enough…I prayed with each new challenge…
let this time be enough.
And then it seemed — at last–for moment it was.
Perhaps I wouldn’t need to fight any more.
Fool was I.
Now the next war wages
And the doctors and nurses
take their positions…..
Oh so busy they are.
How concerned and hurried they look.
All this fight raises in me is a sigh.
And sometimes I worry
the next time won’t even raise that.