I didn’t know
A man could die of a broken heart
Until I saw him on the floor
Not breathing
All I remember
Is the cold
The slight beats
As I pumped
With the lady at
Nine
One
One
Telling me to count
1, 2, 3, 4
As instinct
And the first aid course
Took over.
No one tells you to pray
You make promises
To the deity you abandoned
If they could
Just this once
Help
No answer
And you stood shaking
As the EMT took over
5, 6, 7, 8
9…
And here I am
Months have passed
Clutching at my heart
Back at 1
Author Bio:
Taffle Gwitimah is a writer, educator, and advocate for writing. She has been writing poetry and creative nonfiction since she could write and has recently been dabbling in fiction. Recently returned to her home country from the United States, she is currently working on a book about her cross-continental adventures and has a blog Coming Home Means... that can be found at http://cominghome13.blogspot.com.
A man could die of a broken heart
Until I saw him on the floor
Not breathing
All I remember
Is the cold
The slight beats
As I pumped
With the lady at
Nine
One
One
Telling me to count
1, 2, 3, 4
As instinct
And the first aid course
Took over.
No one tells you to pray
You make promises
To the deity you abandoned
If they could
Just this once
Help
No answer
And you stood shaking
As the EMT took over
5, 6, 7, 8
9…
And here I am
Months have passed
Clutching at my heart
Back at 1
Author Bio:
Taffle Gwitimah is a writer, educator, and advocate for writing. She has been writing poetry and creative nonfiction since she could write and has recently been dabbling in fiction. Recently returned to her home country from the United States, she is currently working on a book about her cross-continental adventures and has a blog Coming Home Means... that can be found at http://cominghome13.blogspot.com.
RSS Feed