In a room never seen before

The room in which I stood had never been used

Never been seen. 

The beds had never been laid in.

The floors had never been walked on.

And the windows had never been looked out of.

The patients have never been met,

And the equipment had never been used.

And there it all stood before me.

The men and women in their beds. 

Looking at the back of their eyelids, dreaming.

Then, like a memory formed,

A bed materialised, 

the pillow and the head resting on it,

The red and black Gillet, and the skin underneath it,

Dark like coco,

The workers appeared beside me,

And together in three, we approached the man.

I looked down at my hands, and I see the pads.

I see the chest, not rising or falling.

I see the wife and the kids, crying, shaking, scared shitless. 

I see the man, never seen before, and know his story.

And I strip the chest.

Apply the pads.

And wait for my mind to tell me when.

The flat line speeds on and on,

Until we’re clear, and bam.

Beep Beep Beep.

The wife looks up, 

My workers smile and disappear,

The man begins to breath again, the kids begin to play again.

The fogged up windows, clear again. 

And the floor begins to fade again. 

Back to how it was. 

The only thing that remained was the thousand of tears that fell from my eyes

An overwhelming sense of a high and a low.

The disbelief that it was I who did it.

I smile at the man, leave him to his wife,

And wake.