Code Blue on a Future That Still Has a Pulse
I used to speak in futures,
in steady hands,
in white coats not yet worn,
in lives I hadn’t saved yet,
but somehow already carried.
Now the words feel heavier,
Like they belong to someone,
who believed too easily,
that effort always blooms,
that nights always end.
I’ve memorized too much,
names of diseases,
paths of pain,
reasons bodies fail,
but no one taught me,
what to do when hope does.
It didn’t shatter loudly,
No,
it slipped,
quiet as a missed heartbeat,
somewhere between trying again
and wondering why.
I still wake up early,
still chase something,
but it feels like running,
with no finish line,
just echoes of who I said I’d be.
And yet,
somewhere beneath the exhaustion,
buried under doubt and silence,
there’s a stubborn pulse,
faint, irregular,
but there.
Not hope,
Not yet,
Just not nothing.
Copyright © Joseph Mjanja | Year Posted 2026
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