I remember the last time I was here.
The doctors like ghosts hovered around me.
Cutting into the Earth, bleeding.
while sinking into the dark places of pain.
Bending over my body and breathing life to my lungs.
I held on to their place, their hollow homes.
That was my comfort.
“She’s going out”
Like a failing light, a weary star, a leaving memory.
The nurses swooned in fatigue at the corner.
I was breathing lightly and still peeping into the curtains of mortality.
Counting my sins, eyeing the clock,
warning time to stay.
To look on my body ridden with bullets, ridden with faults.
I have dropped my rifles to stare at the face of death.
“That’s her life going”
And I think I hear god weighing my soul in a scale, frowning.
Drawing a grimace that lasts for hours.
The Doctor cuts into the Earth again, finding salvation in my bones.
Just an once of life somewhere lingering.
Surviving the darkness of a raging war.
“She’s coming back”
I falter and remember all the war chants.
“Here’s your Life”
“Here’s your life”
Hold me now.