Progression
Progression
Darren Perlongo
A new medic. Learning the ropes.
Victories.
Defeats.
Nervous but eager.
Burning bright with passion.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
Overtime.
Reports.
Bad calls, rules.
Endless training.
The new becomes mundane.
Trade passion for routine.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
An old man.
Old house, lonely and dark.
Can't breathe,
the cigarette's toll.
A life ends soon, no matter my actions.
I try.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
An infant.
Blue.
Limp.
A father in cuffs.
A mother's wail.
Police urging me on.
Green eyes,
glassy and dim.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
Passion gone.
The shadows build.
A demon born,
chuckling softly.
Trapped.
I know nothing but this work.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
A late call.
Twisted ankle.
Trivial, but it holds me here.
Another missed dinner.
My wife.
Light of my life.
It wears upon her.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
Work.
There is only the work.
I wear the shadows as a cloak.
The demon howls like the wind,
battering my mind.
I pull the cloak tight,
pushing through the storm.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.
A young woman,
lost in darkness.
Black shadows,
red wrists.
Her gaze sears my soul,
our demons laughing as one.
I point to my truck's lights,
distant and faint.
Our salvation.
I take her hand and kindle my lamp,
burning my sanity to light the way.
I must move quickly, the light is fading.