Holding On

Anna Delamerced
Warren Alpert Medical School at Brown University


Gloved hands. I wonder if there are
Wrinkles from decades worth of
Injecting a needle of lidocaine
To ease the patient’s pain from surgery
Invasive, tearing at the fascia 

Blue, gray. Whatever color it is
Masks their grief, the smiles they
Long to show to the fearful.
Large, small. Whatever size it is
Hides blue veins, scars and dry skin. 

We live in times where holding someone’s hand
Could be fatal, deadly. I look back to the times
I was too afraid to reach out and hold someone’s hand
Laying there, supine, right before the push of anesthesia
I could have offered to let them grip my hand as hard as they could
Until slowly the numbing sensation bids them to let go 

Where for a moment we are neither
Patient nor medical student, but two people
In the thick of a storm hanging onto the boat
Gripping the wooden rails, searching for an anchor