Echoes

The room
Small, dark
Warm as a womb

Me, reclined
Half naked
Soft leather couch

Erica stands
Between me
And the screen

Probe in hand
Smearing gel

“This will feel
A little sticky
Cold

You will hear
Whooshing sounds
From time to time

This is normal”

She turns me
To one side
Probes again, deeper

Gentle, reassuring
Anticipating fear, anxiety

The whooshing
Whooshes
Images flicker
Buttons click

Later I ask
To see the images
Shaking now
But not in fear
In awe

There in nine
Moving thumbnails
In living colour
Is MY HEART
My SOFTLY BEATING HEART

Blood flowing 
Neon blue
And red
UP the aorta
THROUGH the valves
OUT the aorta

Muscle pumping
Gentle
Constant
Every moment
From womb 
To grave
When it stops
‘I’ stop

... Maybe ...

Tiny
Electric
Pulse
TUGS cords
OPENS valves
Allows

UP
THROUGH
OUT
UP 
THROUGH
OUT

I am 
In awe 
In this
Womb
Of a room
With
Kindly
Expert
Erica

How many
Hearts
Has she probed?
Hundreds?
Maybe thousands
What a job!
What a gift

MY beating heart
Probed
Interrogated
Witnessed
With rapt attention,
Tender
Curiosity
Care

Feels like love
So intimate
Leaves me
In awe

The pure grace
Of this beating

The whole world
Of medicine
Focussed on
The condition
Of my heart

This care
A miracle
This beating
Pure gift

Sustaining
THESE words
THIS hand
THIS  pen
THIS life

The generosity
Of life
Is AWESOME