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.”