A hand around my finger
Squeezes to hold on,
The light that fills your being
Has been there just so long.
The air you breathe in and out
So much faster than mine,
Your eventful life
Is already a lifetime.
Your bruised little body
Engaged in constant fight,
With the genetic injustice
That was your birthright.
If we can rise above
This thing our eyes see:
A fragile infant
Fighting mortality,
Then you can rise beyond
Your preset destiny;
Each battle that you win
Closer to being free.
The finger grasp is gone
And you fade back into dreams,
Where two legs carry you-
No scars and no iv’s.
I carry on my way-
Patients, problems, plans;
But the image still persists
Of my finger and your hand.
Copyright © 2012, the American Society of Anesthesiologists, Inc. Lippincott Williams & Wilkins.