My Sympathy For Their Life

When a doctor grieves...

With the skill and precision demanded of my hands

I cut and I probed with practiced dexterity.

A mere two years since I was no longer called “fresh,”

I found the frantic cries of my colleagues stilling my heart.

Was it yesterday in which I stood, green-faced, tools at hand

As I stood before a life I needed to save, not a corpse?

Was it yesterday I dreamt of saving lives

Out of the love for humanity?

Was it really a mere two minutes ago,

When I witnessed my first flat line,

On my watch,

As the others struggled to revive her?

I stood and stared, bloodied lifesaving tools at hand,

At the freshest death I’ve ever witnessed.

How, I asked my superior.

How can we move on like that?

“In order to save the lives we cherish,

We must not care at all.”

Author's Note

Wrote it for a contest. About a doctor who witnessed their first death.