By Beatrice Preti – Class of 2017

The beeping stopped, and the baby died

The nurses turned their heads, and cried

I didn’t know what else to do

So I turned my head, and I cried too

It lay right there, in front of me

It was so close, I couldn’t breathe

It lay too still to just be sleeping

But all around the staff was weeping

I couldn’t see its face at all

My back was pressed against the wall

Everything seemed so surreal

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t feel

What outcast madman made it so

That some babes die, while others grow?

I’d known of babies who’d died before

But I’d never seen this on a hospital ward

The doctor took my stethoscope

To use while they thought there was hope

It’s the same one I’ll use today and tomorrow

But it’s seen so much pain and so much sorrow!

It’s not the same. It doesn’t feel right.

I’m not the same since I witnessed that sight

The cops and badges were swarming around

They examined the ceilings, the lights, the ground

They asked me questions which I didn’t know

I just wanted to leave, so I asked them to go

 

Late last night I couldn’t sleep

That horror slideshow played on repeat

My mind was full, but my heart was numb

My tears were frozen, as was my tongue

All I knew is that a baby was dead

Everything else was lost in my head

But all of my grief seemed petty and tame

Because I, at least, couldn’t be blamed

But one day soon I too shall rise

When the sound of a siren fills the skies

How will I cope when I’m called to a code

Will I harden my heart, or will the tears still flow?

I don’t want to become so tough I forget

To feel love or feel pain, hurt, and regret

I know I can’t feel pain like this and go on

But what else can I do when a Code Pink goes wrong?