Fri. Nov 8th, 2024
In the chambers of the heart, a silent beat,  
Where rhythm flows in pathways, strong and neat,
But here, in this corridor, a shadow falls,
A whisper in the pulse, a stuttered call.

The right bundle branch, a thread so fine,
Carries life’s current, a vital line,
Yet here it falters, slow to spark,
Leaving the right ventricle briefly dark.

The left side dances, swift and clear,
While the right hesitates, caught in fear,
A delay in the dance, a pause so slight,
Invisible to the eye, hidden from sight.

Causes may vary, from age to strain,
From hearts that have weathered life's storm and rain,
Yet often unnoticed, without a sign,
A secret kept in the heart’s own time.

Diagnosis is found in the ECG’s trace,
A pattern unique, a telling pace,
Treatment depends on what lies within,
Whether the heart’s journey is smooth or thin.

In most, it’s a whisper, no cause for alarm,
A benign delay, no need for harm,
But in others, the heart may need aid,
A pacemaker’s rhythm, a path newly laid.

So in the heart's secret, a story is told,
Of a bundle that hesitates, a beat not so bold,
Yet life goes on, with each beat and breath,
A testament to resilience, a dance with death.

By SG