Saturday, May 2, 2015

May 2, 2015 The Sunday Whirligig/ The Nurses

The Nurses

was this a game      we played as children                playing with our dolls

church bells toll the hour       ring on sundays                    ring for funerals

a simple peal from the tower               it almost speaks your name

 the one whose life is over     (ding) ended      (dong) ceased to be

 (ding) no longer a being on earth     (dong)slipped through the opening

 you were without clothes                                 slipped into a surgical gown

 the last thing you wore          laid you gently on the bed

 beds in a line             beds in a row       each bed held someone's someone

 like a garden      the time was spring        the beginning of the year

 new sprouts appear           the color new green

each one known by his latin name...

honey           you work tirelessly        washing        turning            comforting

dispensing meds       you are in your element            this is what you trained for

you can't save everyone        you have to let some go                  you told me

you rarely see the same one twice                              you are the angel of mercy

each day you are the same                     your life is the same

it is the patients who are different                      but each needs you the same

May 1, 2015










1 comment:

  1. Oh so beautiful and sad, my friend. I can see all the beds in a row. "Each one is someone's someone". Yes. One more springtime and some of the flowers we loved the most are gone.

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