She’s no fool, but even if brought to her
knees, a pediatric nurse is what she
wants to be.
On her interview she was gravely told,
“You’ll sometimes have to assist when
babies are born and you’ll see that,
because mothers drank from a jug
or did drugs, their ravaged infants
struggle to stay alive.
You’ll pray they survive, but babies that
have been damaged by adults often arrive
in the E.R. and sometimes die.
You’ll mourn when you have to wash
and dress the babies that die before
and after they’re born.
In the dark you may think they’d be
better off dead, and to lighten your load,
you’ll need a drink.
“Do you still want the job?” she is asked
and says she’ll do all of the above, because
when they die, they’ll all go to heaven.
She’ll also try to help tiny boys and girls,
eaten away by a fatal disease for which
there is no cure, especially for the poor.
She’ll draw blood and stick needles into
those tiny veins, believing it makes gains
and improves their chances to stay alive.
She must be divinely inspired to want
a job like this. It must be true that
a nurse like her is an Earth-angel.nursing > poetry