Modern day warriors
on the front lines of big cities
and small towns.
They walk the narrow path,
their minds wide open,
their hearts stretched.
The scrubs,
masks and gear they adorn
do not shield them from
the vulnerability of the moments
hanging in a haze.
The shifts are long,
days stretched into nights.
Hours that wear on the mind and soul.
They watch the sick,
the fragile,
those
that want to take a breath
but can not.
Those that fade away dying alone,
alone,
alone.
The room empty
no love whispered,
nor prayers.
Poetry on their skin
as their eyes drift.
The ventilators stand guard,
voices heard through the corridor walls.
There is no parole from this prison,
no furlough.
There are monitors and screens
displaying vital signs
displaying vital signs
and humans in spacesuits.
There are memories that play with the mind
in and out of awareness.
A nurse holds a phone
to witness a last goodbye
to cherished ones.
Fragments of a conversation,
amends for words unspoken,
for dreams unfulfilled.
One more day,
one more night,
if only...
