The day began as many others had,
Walking between the helicopter landing
And the ambulance bay, nothing sad
In the beginning, nothing to let me know
That today I would watch a child die.
No one told her mother, her grandpa,
Even her nurse would be caught unaware.
How was I to know that today I would
Be finding a rocking chair to hold
The loud sobs of a mother as she walked
Into a sea of yellow – dozens of staff
Gowned and hurrying, working, hoping,
That some small act would buy her minutes -
So her mother could come and touch her foot
Wishing her to stay, telling her not to go.
This sea of yellow shouting into the hall
For various medicines, for blood, for mere
Inventions of mortals which would not keep
One child’s soul from leaving her body
Alone, cold and blue on the bed.
“She is my life!” I heard the frantic mother say
And this I knew was true, from stopping to
Meet this child and mother several weeks
Earlier, when I saw the girl’s smile, the
Smile soon echoed in her mother’s face.
Next to the sanitizer dispenser
I watched as the monitor beeped red
Notifying the watching sea of yellow that
Her heart was too weary to go on
A nurse reached up and plunging her
Hands into the center of the small chest
Gave her strength, hoping that this time
The story might end “happily ever after”.
When she grew weary, another nurse stepped
In, each one taking turn, praying that they
Might be the one to stop, not for death
But welcoming the return of life.
Happily ever after ended there, in that room,
Every eye becoming the window to a
Wounded soul, troubled at why children
Die, senselessly as it seemed she did that
Day, and I have no answer for them.
Yet the King of the Universe,
Who suffered the loss of His only Son,
Somehow found it best this girl should
Not live many years, my life seeming long
When laid next to hers, that this mother
Would weep for the days she would never
Have to smile with her daughter again.
Is He cruel? Is He too weak to take
Compassion on those in that room who
Were begging loudly, silently, for anyone
To save her? No, not this God. He knew
The grief that would come, and yet he
Knows what I do not, the end of the story
Remains yet unwritten. For even in deep
Grief a deeper joy may rise, and
From the ashes flowers often bloom.