Light Will Come I Pray

July 23rd 2020
Light will come, I pray.

Nine forty-five AM
Bleach wafting from the pillow
Aromatic antiseptic, but bitter metallic tang from steel
Forthwith reminds me of my operation
My right arm numbs as the sphygmomanometer beeps away.

Ten thirty-six AM
Nurse Lee collects three cartridges of blood
Through the mouth of my veins

Ten forty six AM
I, the girl who aspires to be Meredith Grey
lay in darkness
as I watch the antidote
slither along the pipe
and into the mouth of my veins

Eleven AM
Sliding both arms into the loose gown
Doth hangs on my bare skin
A sickened girl stare back at me
through the water-stained mirror
She runs her dry fingertips
along the lump of her neck
for the very last time
Light will come
I pray

Eleven thirty-four AM
Entering the last corridor
I see Grandma walking alongside
silently
strenuously
holding my hands

She assures me
Light will come
I pray

Twelve o-four PM
Doors swing open,
aromatic antiseptic, but bitter metallic tang from steel
wrinkling my forehead
a few words from the anesthesiologist
before the anesthesia propels me
into the surreal world of dreams

Six thirty-three PM
My sight is a blur
And my ears can carry no more
The intrusion of machines
I see silhouettes seated at my side
Ghosts from my life

Six forty-seven PM
Awakening, I see
A familiar face
A familiar fragrance
A familiar warmth on my hand
All present
Except for the familiar lump

Harsh white lights of the hospital ceiling prevail over the new me
I glisten as I am put in spotlight

The malignant had been sliced away
Splicing the darkness

Light had arrived
My prayer had been answered.