Rooms

[Colm Roe]

A 40 minute commute to work,
she could be heading towards a maelstrom
or placid waters, or anything
in between.
Back home, her room will always be warm
ready to welcome,
soft creams and pinks to shush it all away, or
at least try to.
It can't be easy though,
when the nicest little girl she ever met,
the one who asked where she was yesterday
because she missed her so much
died a few days later.
She loves being missed.
Her job will bring unimaginable grief,
so many new best friends will come
and go.
There are many rooms,
like the private, dying ones,
just off ICU
or the 'family' room she's sent to, after,
to comfort parents that can't be consoled
and her grieving another new friend!

I'm glad my heart is small
and there's only room for a few.

[indar]

I have read this several times and tried to find something appropriate to say about it but I don't have the words. There will be many attempts to say something significant about what we are living through and this write will stand as a contribution to the effort that helps us process the grief.

[Gyppo]

Colm,

I am often amazed, and humbled even, by how nurses seem to have endless empathy for their charges, and how they deal with tragedy day after day in children's and terminal wards.

This has made me wonder.  Could it be the specialised rooms help them 'change  gear', from condolence to enthusiasm according to the needs of the moment?

Plus her own room at home, the sanctuary, the private place.

The last verse touched a chord as well.  I'm a bit of a 'Good Samaritan' type, but there's times when, for the sake of my own sanity, I simply have to 'walk by on the other side'.  Nurses don't have that option.

Gyppo

 

[Colm Roe]

Thanks Linda and Gyppo.
I've often wondered why some nurses don't seemed to be cut out for the job; they don't come across as being very caring or empathetic. After all my dealings with hospitals in the last few years I've come to the conclusion that it might be (like you implied Gyppo) a defence mechanism, or maybe PTSD.
Jessica has a nice home, is supported, loved and cherished by all her family, and has a good life in every way. Many nurses struggle to survive financially, and their lives may not be as comfortable and safe as Jessica's. So I don't expect all nurses to possess lightness and joy. If they are doing their job properly I don't expect all of them to be 'so caring'.
It's only since she became one that I've really become aware of what they have to deal with...they definitely are not paid enough!

[Dave]

The story and sentiments of the poem are moving and admirable. I could never do what they do although I ave accompanied for several months and more several people who were dying. 
The poem itself from my point of view explains a little too much, sometimes repeating itself and losing impact: e.g. 
Back home, her room will always be warm ( not sure why future tense, would suggest present tense)
ready to welcome, (I would suggest warm or welcome as they are too similar).
Soft creams and pinks to shush it all away (I would drop or at least to try to since this is implied in the word 'to' in to shush.. and it robs the image of impact.

Do the last two lines belong to the poem? In my view they add the poet's voice somewhat inelegantly late in the poem if they do belong and are not really necessary.
A serious important topic and am glad you have brought it up as the nurses deserve every support they can get.

[Tracy Mitchell]

Sorry I am late to the party.

This is a somber poem, and much more relaxed in terms of the way you more frequently restrict the narrative. This is almost . . . wordy. I don't mean that as a crit, but just an observation.

It very much brings to mind "in my father's house there are many rooms", but I am not sure any direct tie-in is intended.

You draw your MC with empathy.

T

[Colm Roe]

Thanks Tracy.
I'm struggling to escape from a narrative bent; something Dave has justly commented on.
It might be down to lack of competition, and because there are so few people posting I feel obliged to put a few new things on the front page.
No...it's down to competition! When I read a really good poem I look back at my previous ones and think 'They could have been better!'
Actually it's not really competing...it's more direction. I've seen it so many times in NaPo; a great poem suddenly spawning higher levels.

[Gyppo]

Actually it's not really competing...it's more direction. I've seen it so many times in NaPo; a great poem suddenly spawning higher levels.

Napo is definitely a hot-house environment where things can grow, bloom unexpectedly, with a huge amount of cross-pollination taking place, either deliberately or subconsciously.

There is definitely symbiosis taking place in that month.  A time when each poet is in a bubble with the others, a community of like-minded folks even when they all see the world differently.  A safe place to explore thoughts and feelings you might otherwise keep to yourself, to stop and admire a butterfly or a slug and realise that each has some fascinating aspects.  We don't necessarily have to like something to be interested in it.

The one thing all writers, poets, creative types in general have in common is an over-riding curiosity about nearly everything.  Sometimes transient and sometimes a lifetime fascination.

Then, sometimes, having satisfied our curiosity we truly want - sometimes even need - to share what we've seen, found, or maybe perhaps only sensed, with others on a similar wavelength.

If it wasn't for places like this many of our thoughts and fancies would probably die unwritten, unuttered, and unshared.

Now I want you all to pat yourselves on the back, or maybe just smile a little if you're not particularly demonstrative, for being good folks and go off to enjoy Christmas, or not if that's the way you roll.

Have a good one, everyone.

Gyppo

[indar]

What an interesting discussion! I find it heartening. I have not been writing for quite some time and the longer I don't write the more convinced I've grown that i can't write. I'm even losing my vocabulary. Often i find myself trying to think of a word. I decide to google "synonym, round" whilst trying to think of the word "rotund" (bad example) but I can't even think of the word "synonym"). I ask myself "is this the end?" But maybe all I need is NaPo.

[Tracy Mitchell]

i am totally convinced that those who don't write and say that they are not writing because they can't think of something worthwhile to say are fooling themselves and BS'ing the rest of us. I say this knowing that I am frequently in that category. The fact of the matter, I believe, is that you need to write regularly in order to facilitate the formulating of ideas worth pursuing, and recording the poetry in your life. A recently read, "if you can't find [poetic] inspiration in the world around you, you are simply not paying attention." We are supposed to be the deep observers and transcendental translators. I suppose we should act like it, FFS. Or something like that.