I want to write a poem but I can’t even think straight.
I want to write a poem but I don’t know where to start.
Do I write about my day? My day without water or food or the chance to catch my breath (figuratively).
Or do I write about my patients who cannot catch their breaths (literally)?
I want to write a poem but there are too many poems to write.
Do I write about the man in bed C13 who will probably die tonight?
Or maybe I should write about the lady who we intubated today but still couldn’t give her the oxygen she needed?
I want to write a poem but I also want to relieve my bladder because I haven’t done that today either.
I want to write a poem but just as I start putting pen to paper (thought to script) my phone lights up “Twelve admissions on the way”. (I’m not even on duty).
I want to write a poem but I can’t because I’m thinking of my colleagues who are still labouring tirelessly.
Trying to hold up a nation that is drowning in ignorance.
Maybe I should write about how they will work through the night. Increasing oxygen, fighting (begging) for ICU beds. Declaring people dead.
I want to write a poem but I can’t because my head is filled with beeping alarms. “Oxygen saturation too low!”
And my hands are filled with coronavirus. And I need to take a shower.
I want to write a poem but I am waiting for our president to give me some hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. Something that will show my friends and family how serious this is.
I want to write a poem that will convince my people to stop being so selfish.
I want to write a poem but I don’t know what else to say.
If 1.6 million lives lost cannot convince them then what will one poem do?