View Out My Window

The worst thing is
she died alone
as so many do these days
isolated from all who love her.

In pandemic, we are globally
unprepared for this novel anguish.

There is nothing outside in the grey
evening, nothing outside my window
to distract me from the memories
of dying patients, how we used
to use our lunch breaks to hold
and rock those who had no families,
so they would not feel abandoned.

I jolt up in the night, sleepless again.
I look up at a sky ablaze, scattered
starlight undimmed by light pollution
for once, and I remember how we
were, what we did all those years
in Intensive Care.

I recall singing to patients
as their pallor deepened, their breath
agonal, watching for signs
of pain, wishing they were
not separated from all who loved them
realizing they were not.

She did not die alone.
This I know. A nurse held her
hand. A nurse spoke steadily and softly
to her. A nurse told her of those who love
her and longed to be at her side. This I
know as I fall into the arms of sleep.

Catherine Klatzker is a retired pediatric ICU RN. Her work has been published in mental health anthologies from In Fact Books and from Lime Hawk Literary Arts Collective, as well as a range of other publications including Atticus Review, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Tiferet Journal, The Examined Life Journal, Emrys Journal, and others. She was a Ragdale writing resident, and she earned second place in Split This Rock’s 2016 Poetry Contest. Catherine’s memoir was longlisted for the 2017 Santa Fe Writers Project Literary Awards Program. It is forthcoming from Stillhouse Press in May 2021.

Photo “My Comrads” by Gayle Kirschenbaum