Sunday, May 03, 2009

Woke at 3 am because of sirens. Sandy in my heart, passing over the earth, no longer in her pain body. Sirens not for her, dying not an emergency.

 Whenever I have ridden in an Hurry, hurry, the cabin rocking back and forth, holding the mother's hand, it's ok, you're ok and your babe is ok ( hurry hurry driver, no stopping for lights, driving around cars, trucks, going the wrong way down the streets, at night, in the daytime, the equipment in the back swaying too, the IV fluids, bloodpressure cuffs, O2 bottles strapped to the wall, gurney locked, hurry driver, hurry, please a quick response when we get to the hospital, hurry)then the bright lights of the ER, we are rushing through to the delivery floor, handing off the chart, telling the docs the story, quick, quick, monitors to the mother, baby sounds ok, begin to breathe easier, easier, ok, ok. 

Sirens in the night means no traffic, blasting through lights, life inside gone wrong, blood, bullets, some disaster, save this, save this. 

We release Sandy, no rush. Reverse the pulsing forward, the thrust, hot vigor. Wait. Watch. Expand out.  Lilacs, tulips, cherry trees breathing out their fragrance, unclasped. Undone. 


Valerie Loveland said...

I've never been in an ambulance, but now I feel like have.

beth coyote said...

It's surreal.