Maternity Ward

When the sister reads Morning Prayer

over the loud speaker ­ a Psalm about

seeking light in darkness ­ I bow my head

and wonder if such prayer is ample

for what we do here.

I am the one who palpates

bones in women's backs, listens

as they pray to break open,

end the pain. Don't move,

I tell them as they sway

with fear. Don't move, as I slide

thick blunt needles into their backs.

In rooms crowded

with fetal monitors, IV poles,

rocking chairs, husbands, mothers,

aunts, and sisters, I say,

Breathe slow now,

my thumb tapping the plunger,

sweat gathering between my breasts,

in the creases behind my knees.

When, in early morning darkness,

I hear them count for ten fingers,

ten toes, I celebrate

this strength to come together

and split apart, this fusion

of fear to joy.

By Kelly Sievers, CRNA