Rising Crescendo;
910 Words
I flow through veins now taut with fury,
My crimson currents are thick with pain.
I am the Blood,
and I cry,
my lament carried in every pulse,
through every capillary,
into the marrow, the sinews, the trembling organs.
The lungs scream in ragged gasps:
“Too much! Too fast!
The poisons flood our sacs,
We cannot inhale life through this torrent!”
I surge, desperate to comfort them,
pushing oxygen, coaxing air into their weakened chambers,
But the sting of human error burns in every droplet I carry.
The heart trembles, its beats jagged:
“I am the drum of existence,
yet I stagger under negligence!
I cry, I pound, I ache —
hear me! Hear me!”
I pulse through it,
but the rhythm quivers,
echoing my own grief and fury.
The liver hums in deep complaint:
“I twist poisons into harmless forms,
I cleanse and filter,
Yet the toxic tide overwhelms me.
Why do they not see?
Why do they not pause?”
I flow past its scarred cells,
a river of sorrow and protest,
answering each groan with my own chorus of pain.
The kidneys cry in small, precise voices:
“We labor tirelessly!
We cleanse, we resist,
yet still the toxins surge unchecked!
We strain! We strain!”
I carry their pain onward,
my crimson waves pounding against vein walls,
a tide of fury, a storm of complaint.
The stomach twists violently:
“I cannot digest this!”
It churns in agony.
“Every drip, every injection,
burns and corrodes my fragile walls!
We are assaulted and left to suffer!”
I flow to it, whispering warmth,
carrying oxygen and sustenance,
even as the acid churns in bitter protest.
The brain trembles, the command center quaking:
“Confusion! Pain! Misread signals!
They hear not my screams!
They see numbers, not life!”
I surge through its arteries,
pulsing hope into the trembling neurons,
reminding them that endurance is coded in the very marrow.
Even the veins cry, fragile corridors of life:
“We are violated!
Every puncture leaves scars!
Every careless hand drives agony into the core of the body!”
And I, the Blood, surge harder,
flowing with anguish and defiance,
carrying the lament of every organ,
turning complaint into a symphony of survival.
The marrow hums deep, ancient:
“Flow, dear blood.
Endure, even when torn.
Even when the hands that should heal falter.
Our bones remember what it is to withstand.
Our cells remember survival.”
I surge higher, louder, stronger,
my rivers of crimson a wave of sorrow and fury,
crying:
“I am life!
I am a witness!
I am the song of suffering and endurance!”
The heart joins, pulsing unevenly but determined:
“Though I falter, though my walls are bruised,
I will drum life into this trembling body!
Though pain courses through me, I will not yield!”
The lungs gasp in chorus:
“Still we breathe!
Still, we fight!
Even when the air burns, we inhale!
Even when flooded, we rise again!”
The kidneys chant:
“We cleanse! We resist!
We remind the body that it is stronger than error!
We endure! We endure!”
The liver hums bitterly:
“Though scarred, though poisoned,
We twist life from the mistakes inflicted upon us.
We turn harm into memory,
pain into vigilance.”
I cry, my currents thick with coppery grief:
“Do they see us?
Do they hear the voices of life beneath their charts and protocols?
We are not numbers!
We are rivers of memory!
We are endurance incarnate!”
The body shudders beneath the weight of suffering,
every organ vibrating with complaint,
every vein trembling in protest.
And yet, life persists,
fragile, battered, yet unbroken.
Then — a pause.
A careful hand stops the careless drip.
The nurse hesitates, eyes wide, noticing the subtle tremor.
The doctor rechecks the charts, measures, adjusts, and corrects.
Awareness sparks in the hands that were blind.
I feel hope ripple through every vein.
The lungs inhale deeper, slowly, intentionally.
The heart beats steadier, more certain.
The kidneys strain less, relief flowing in whispered currents.
The liver hums a cautious, low purr.
I, the Blood, surge in quiet triumph.
My crimson waves pulse warmth, oxygen, sustenance.
I whisper to the organs:
“We are seen.
We cry, yes, but our voices carry.
We endure.
We survive.
We rise.”
Even as exhaustion lingers,
The body feels care in every vein.
Even as shadowed by past negligence,
There is light —
a spark of attention,
a recognition of the life we protect.
The marrow hums in proud resonance:
“See? Life resists.
Though torn, though scarred,
We endure.
The hands that harm can learn.
The body that suffers can heal.”
I surge through the veins,
carrying pain, but also memory, vigilance, and hope.
The lungs, the heart, the liver, the kidneys, the stomach —
all pulse in quiet acknowledgment:
We are alive.
We resist.
We endure.
And I, the Blood, cry —
not only in sorrow, but in triumph.
Though the shadow of negligence remains,
Though pain still lingers,
we — the Blood, the organs, the veins, the marrow —
will rise.
We will fight.
We will survive.
The monitors beep steadily.
The machines hum, soft and watchful.
The body — battered, bruised, trembling —
remains alive.
And I, the Blood, pulse with quiet joy:
Though harmed, we persist.
Though wounded, we endure.
Though neglected, we rise.
- Writer
