By J.C. Cordova
The battle is lost. It is finished.
Her world without end
has precipitously ended.
A voice declares it:
our attempts were in vain, our best
simply not enough.
The surgeon falters, burdened
by the tidings that will shatter
her family’s hopes; their world
torn asunder as we wipe the blood from her skin,
softening the mask of mortality
that rests already upon her cheeks.
Ringing the room, we standing silent vigil
while her daughters lead their father in.
His tears are falling freely,
as will ours; they will visit in the quiet hours,
coupled with guilt and shame,
with questions – inescapable, unanswerable
except by he who will come to judge us,
we so recently separated
into the living and the dead.
J.C. Cordova is an anesthesiologist in the National Capital Region. He adores his family and greatly enjoys exploring the world with them. He has previously been published in a number of scientific and literary journals, including Anesthesiology, Penumbra, and Academic Medicine, with work forthcoming in Ars Medica.