All That I Will Know

I know what burning flesh smells like

do not be too disturbed—
it has only been within the sterile walls
of an operating room
Cauterized before hemorrhage occurs

I cannot help but think
of the tiny feet running from flames
children
who had no choice in this sensory experience

I know what the silence before an infant’s first cry sounds like
The bated breath if there is a delay
followed by relief moments later

I cannot help but think of the mothers
who are never able to hear the comfort
of their child’s first cry

I know the look of uncertainty
from a loved one 
witnessing their other half grow old into oblivion
forget parts of themselves with denial a weapon
piercing louder than the silence of what now?

I cannot help but think of the loved ones
who are denied the chance to witness
their love growing old alongside them
Captured away in this cruel little world

I know what a conversation brimming with fantasy sounds like
from a man who has grappled with his age
creating stories to become the main character
of the world inside his head
while he lives amongst the forgotten humans of society

I cannot help but think of the crutches of life
that the ancestors must have employed
living their life behind to inhabit a foreign land
escape a physical war to be met with a mental battle

I know what an infant fighting to breathe looks like
tiny lungs struggling with a tiny bobbing head
surrounded by little contraptions of oxygen
helping him fight an infection

I cannot help but think of the tiny infants forgotten
with no access to fancy little gadgets 
to help them survive this infected world

I know what the desperate fear of a man at war with his demons looks like
his “fighting for light” amongst the nightmares
that were once reality
enlisted to snipe, now paying the price

I cannot help but think of his demons
targets of war
just empty faces to the killer
once upon a time

I know how cancer invades a human so full of life
replacing every correct decision with wonder of
why me?
A mind destined to fight with a heart tired of b r e a k i n g

I know what a man who has fought death looks like
Heart brought back to life
Eyes filled with horror upon this revelation
As I tell my heart to shatter quietly

I know what the hollowing loss of a stranger feels like
one who had become familiar
throughout the days spent within these sterile walls
sharing smiles of hope and prayers of recovery

I know the colors of life and the colors of death–
the pale yellow of a diseased liver
the grueling green of a survival reflex
the fiery red of a screaming infant
the cold blue of a lifeless body
the black and brown bruises of a tired teenager

I know all these things, but I do not know what lies ahead
I do not know how many will touch my heart
I do not know how many I will cry for
I do not know how many more I will lose
strangers now, but bound to cross paths in this
lifelong journey

how is it possible to break your own heart
upon a path you’ve dreamed of for years?

Perhaps that is the price one pays for this knowledge
For this privilege of healing
And being healed all the same