A Code Blue

By Beverly Greene

NOTE: This poem is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without the author's expressed and written consent.

You told
me
once
that you wanted
my heart.
I fought
like a brave soldier
but finally
I had to surrender it
into your soft, loving hands.
You cradled it
like a child
and whispered
"Baby, it'll be all right."
I somehow
found it in
me
to believe you.
Now you tell
me
that I have to
take it back.
Though you've tried
to carefully
hand it to
me,
I find myself
fighting again.
I don't want it back!
I gave it to
you
because I love you
and I don't want
that feeling
to ever fade away.
But you tell
me
that it has to.

Why does land
have to matter?
That's all
that's between
us.
Yet, somehow,
I know that it does.
As yet another
tear of loneliness
and fear of never
feeling love again
plunges down
my flushed cheek,
I finally give up.
and take back
my old, battered heart.

Now I can see
why no one
would want it.
Look at all of the tear stains
and ripped holes.
Look at the mending stitches
unravelling.
Funny, it never
seemed so ugly
when it was you
who was cradling it
with such tender care.
I guess my hands
don't suffice
for the nourishment
it needs to be strong.
I can only love
this ugly, old, beat-up heart
with the little love
it has hidden
deep inside,
away from the pain.

As I stand here,
looking for my heart
in my own hands,
once again,
and feel the blood
trickling between
my fingers
from the latest wound,
I wonder how long
it will survive
in my cold hands.
I know that
I must find
warm hands
to hold it, protect it,
heal it soon
before it slips
out of my careless hands
onto the floor,
unnoticed
by the travelling feet.

I flop down,
tired and weary,
gazing at my heart,
and I look down
at my white gown
and all the blood drops
and I wonder,
where is my
cardiologist
who will gently
caress it back
to health.
Please hurry,
I think that I have
a code blue
on my hands.






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� 1999 Beverly Greene owns all rights to this original poem.

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