Medical Poetry | Page 8 of 9 | HEALTH

I.C.U.

By HEALTH | INSPIRATION on December 31, 2015 • ( 13 Comments )

Lines, tubes, wires, chains.
Dignity stripped, cavities drained.
The metronome of your pulse above
the beeping orchestra, dissonant buzz.
Each gesture tracked, beat recorded,
breathing measured, life distorted.
Do you still feel free?

The body, its function a masterpiece to muse,
altered by poison, fluid infused.
Vesicles, vessels, organs affixed,
shrouded in blood, lymph intermixed.
Adhered in oneness by tendon and skin,
scarcely quickened by a pump grown dim.
Do you still feel strong?

Risen before the dawning sun,
a swarm of stoic white has come
to declare the status of your issues–
Liver, kidney, heart, lung, tissue.
To examine and prod, inspect then move
a person, a soul, or a number to improve?
I hope you still feel human.

Code Blue [a poem]

By HEALTH | INSPIRATION on February 10, 2015 • ( 66 Comments )

A code called.
She races
as the seas part
for her crossing.
Reposed before her–
rhythm without pulse,
fluid without flow,
substance without life–
is you.

Invaded
as lines in your thigh
penetrate a pump paralyzed,
as tube between ashen lips
thrusts into stagnant air.
Poison pushed into a heart
quivering, she watches as
your chest rises
with the force
of each counterfeit breath.

The symphony begins.

Thump
Shock delivered.
Strike through the breast.
Voltage down your limbs.
Buoyant, jerking,
Each retort
a life feigned by lightening.

Crunch
Bones crush.
The carol of ribs,
a surrender to the fury
of each compression,
quickens with her pounding heart.
Each chord
a dissonant harmony.

Glazed are your eyes
as they pulsate
with the cadence of their dance.
She looks at you.
Pleads for you to return.
Prays to the god she plays.
But your eyes plead for something more.

You leave her.

The story ends.

And the orchestra leaves.

• • •

◊ The Cardiac Arrest From a Patient’s Perspective ◊

Malady.

By HEALTH | INSPIRATION on January 27, 2015 • ( 23 Comments )

Desperation.
Driven by disease
more clever than our hands,
you elude our grasp.

Come back.

Poison,
fighting for the soul
courses through your veins,
while the dusk
consumes the mind
of your decay.

Do you hear me calling?

Forsaken by a beast deceiving,
your breaths remains unmarred.
Spared by fiendish mercy,
your heart beats
undisturbed beneath the curtain
of a vacant shell.

I know you hear me calling.
I know you’re still there.
Perhaps our love will bring you back.

Come back to us.