Every night when I lived in the ICU
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* Linda E. Clarke

Every night when I lived in the ICU I floated on dark blankets in deep, warm water.

Every night when I lived in the ICU I drifted to and fro, to and fro, and the dim light and night-quiet of the hospital drew me down quiet.

Every night when I lived in the ICU my breath was measured by the vent of the man in the curtained bed beside me. The rasp of his machine carried my breath along with the rise and fall, rise and fall, of his barrel chest and I caught my breath in the darkness of the night when the alarm sent soft-footed nurses to scold him into breathing.

Every night when I lived in the ICU my sleep carried dreams around me, dreams of travel, of crawling, creeping, dreams of floating away, of sinking.

Every night when I lived in the ICU a sentinel nurse kept watch in the shadows at the foot of my bed. hourly first, then every two, she drifted up to pull me back from the dark water of my sleep: 

* Who are you?* * Where are you?* * Why are you here?*

She shone a light into my eyes.

*Who are you?* * Where are you?* * Why are you here?*

Every night when I lived in the ICU I slept, tethered with tubes, buttressed with bedrails and carried, gently, in the hands of those who kept company with me and welcomed me back from the exile of pain and fear that had carried me to that place.

Every night when I lived in the ICU I climbed higher every night when I lived in the ICU

*Who are you?* * Where are you?* * Why are you here?*

**Linda E. Clarke** Artist in Residence Medical Humanities Program Faculty of Medicine Dalhousie University

Halifax, NS