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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2148162
Rated: E · Poetry · Medical · #2148162
Dr.'s remorse in making futile life saving efforts in child's last few minutes of life.
Marked My Soul
By Joe DeLucia
Crying baby, burnt flesh, screams for Mommy.
Ignore his pain, hold still, show no emotion.
Do the Devil’s needs, I.Vs, I.Os, foley.
Don’t cry, remain calm, a doctor’s devotion.

Fear shrouds his face, a tear rolls from his eye.
No time to feel, think, just focus and treat.
My face stone cold, baby gives one last sigh.
Ram tubes down his throat, past pearly white teeth.

Parents cry, moan at the foot of the bed.
Desire to comfort their son, touch, hold.
No time, must work, their baby is near dead.
They trust, total reliance, remain bold.

Death wins. I stop, silence, parents gape, groan.
Last hour of life, I tortured that boy.
Heartless treatment to no avail, bemoan.
Should have let parents hold, kiss, one last joy.

© Copyright 2018 Joe DeLucia (joedelucia at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2148162