Contemplation on Change

Light

After three days of labor, the baby still hadn't been born.
"He's stuck. The little guy's stuck," the man said.
He had come from a remote farm in the country.
The doctor went with him.
Valise in hand, the doctor walked under the noonday sun,
toward the horizon, into that desolate world where everything
seems born of accursed fate. When he got there he understood.
Later, he told Gloria Galvan:
"The woman was at death's door but was still panting and sweating, and her eyes were wide open. I had no experience with situations like that. I was shaking; I hadn't the faintest idea what to do. And then, as I drew back the blanket, I saw a tiny arm sticking out from between the woman's legs."
The doctor realized that the man had been pulling on it.  The little arm was rubbed raw and lifeless: a flap of skin, black and dried blood. And the doctor thought: There is nothing to be done.
And yet, for whatever reason, he caressed the arm. He rubbed the inert limb with his index finger, and when he got to the hand, it suddenly closed, clutching his finger for dear life.
Then the doctor asked for boiling water and rolled up his sleeves. eg

The breath arrives. The breath departs. Continuously.