Hard Fights And Very Small Triumphs. A life … A death.
The small private ward was now peaceful, but stark No one was lying asleep in the dark A young man had fought there all night for his life She’d waited outside, his pregnant young wife.
The fight had been lost and there was no disguise That could easily cover the hurt in the eyes Of the doctors and nurses who’d seen the man’s pain As they’d struggled to save him, as they’d struggled in vain.
Above and along in a different room A baby emerged from a young mother’s womb It was pretty and perfect as babies should be The cord had been cut and the baby was free.
The husband and wife knew that they had been blessed When their daughter was placed by the new mothers breast She drank and she fed as her journey began And they thought about names as they started to plan.
Very soon after the young man had died His wife lost her baby and everyone cried At the terrible waste they had witnessed that night All wishing that they could make everything right.
But life in a hospital has to go on There’s always more caring that needs to be done Others will wait where the pregnant wife sat But with happier outcomes, they all pray for that.
I wrote this soon after I had been in hospital myself for a bypass, the young man was rushed in following a road accident. The maternity ward was in the wing opposite to the way our beds faced. Sadness and joy all at the same time, and I felt like I was adrift somewhere halfway along.