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?
