In Our Own Words

More poems

The creativity of the nurses writing in continues here as a new entry with these 2 poems.

Jocelyn Stafford-Cox RN, ENC is an emergency room nurse who works in a level one trauma center in Canada. She has been nursing for over 33 years and has "loved every minute of it". "I guess you could say I'm addicted to the rush, the excitement and the intrigue that comes with working in an emergency setting." She says this poem which she wrote for her emergency department explains the 'real' reasons she is a nurse.

It Is In My Soul

Spirited, friendly and sound of heart
Barely dawn and ready to start.
Sick calls and a complaining M.D.
All I want is my first coffee.

Co-ordinating clerks and staff
I don't know the troubles ahead by half.
Barely nine and the E.D.'s hopping
And triage shows no signs of stopping.

Broken equipment, back orders, the lot;
"Nurse-in-charge, line…" will it ever stop?
Pulled from the front area to the back
Continual calls about this and that!

Trauma nurses one and two on break together
And another trauma arrives due to bad weather.
The paper chase that never ends
Seems to want to be my perpetual friend.

Lunch time has long come and far gone
And my meal was eaten by someone's son
Aching back and feet that are sore
Must get all admitted patients to the floor.

No time to even check the schedule for tonight
Dear Lord, I hope the numbers are all right!
Three-thirty, four-thirty, now it is five,
How could I ever have felt alive?

I cover an old lady waiting in the hall
She looks cold and fragile, like a porcelain doll.
"Thank you" she says, eyes filled with loneliness and sorrow
It is because of her I'll be back tomorrow.

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Here's the second poem written by Sharon Mathis RN.

Hospice Nurse

I am a hospice nurse
But what does that mean
Besides the death and the dying
That daily I see

It is a feeling of love
That comes from inside
And feelings of compassion
I can not hide

It's a gentle touch
A hug and a tear
It's being a comfort
As death draws near

It's knowing that somehow
A difference I made
In a family's life
As they face the day

I am a hopsice nurse
But what does that mean
I give from my heart
I live my dream.

Palliative Care Resource Center

A poem

Sit back, take a relaxing breath and enjoy this submission written by Mark Darby.

Reflections on the Hands of a Nurse

Let us take a moment to remember our hands.
For these are no ordinary hands.
These are the hands of a nurse.
These are the hands that help us do our work.
These are the hands that carry out the skills that make nursing possible.

Let us remember our hands and be grateful for what they do
For the eyes may see, the mouth may speak but it is the hands that hold, the hands that heal, the hands that give the caring touch.

These are the hands that feel the first breath of a new born child,
These are the hands that feel the last breath of a dying one

These are the hands that hold a family, who has just lost a loved one, These are the hands that clap for joy at the healing of a disease. These are the hands that insert tubes that bring healing to the body

These are the hands that touch a forehead and tell, within a degree, normal or febrile.
These are the hands that feel a pulse and know fast or slow, weak or strong, effective or for naught.

These are the hands that restrain the angry from self-harm
These are the hands that compress the sternum to bring life

These are the hands that clean unspeakable places on another person's body but do so with dignity and respect which allow that person to feel like a human being.

These are also the hands of different people not just black or white, brown or yellow but all.
These are not the hands of male or female but both.

Other hands may build buildings or write books Some hands may even pull the trigger or plunge the knife but these are the hands of life.

These are the hands that take up the task passed down from so long ago—to bring healing to the sick, comfort to the afflicted, hope to the hopeless

But these are not the hands of timid maidens who look for direction outside themselves

These are also the hands that can be clenched because sometimes some thing has got to change.

These are the hands of a nurse
These are the hands that have the privilege of being at the bedside

For these are the hands of a nurse, the hands of a person that does a job that not everyone can do.
These are the hands of a nurse, the hands of strength compassion and love
These are the hands of a nurse,

These are my hands.