Fuck your chart.

How.
Dare.
You.
How dare you come here with your pile of paperwork,
While I'm caring for my many patients
While I'm doing my Work.
God's work, as my father once called it.
How dare you come and ask me to explain myself.
"Where's the chart?"
I didn't tear it apart.
"Where's the chart?"
I gave report, she would have been responsible for it.
"Where's the chart?
Where, you ask, where is the chart?
I don't know what you are looking for,
What piece of paper, but I know that
I gave that woman the finest care.
I made her feel loved, in a moment of deepest sorrow.
I was her shepherd through the world's deepest pain:
The grief of a mother for her young son.
I held her toddler daughter so she could cry openly.
I held this stranger on my shoulder and wept with her
I heard her pride in naming him herself.
I listened carefully for his heartbeat time and time again until,
When it finally stopped and I knew he wouldn't feel any more pain
I gently cast his footprints in plaster,
The only proof she would ever have that he was hers
And hers alone.
The only thing in her world that she might call her own.
And so, no.
I didn't write much down.
I didn't chart vital signs so meager.
I didn't cross my t's or dot my i's.
But I was a damn fine nurse, that day.
So put a fucking price on that.
After all, what is the code for "sorrow"?
For "lonely"?
How much should grief cost?
And, had I spent more time charting
and less time caring...
Would it pay more?
I am no man's whore,
No rule-following automaton
I am a nurse.
A lady with a lamp, lighting a way through the dark and confusing
Web of the human response to disease.
The *human* response.

So fuck you.
Fuck you and your chart.  You're lucky I filled out as much as I did.
No, I can't remember what happened to that piece of paper a month ago.
But I will always remember that baby's name.
And the day that I made a real difference in someone's life and someone's death.

What will you remember?

Metal III

Seatbelts buckled, safety bars locked. 

The brakes are loose and we're on our way up the first hill of this 

Rollercoaster.

Soon we'll let fly and 

Hang on tight

And scream and laugh all the way down

To some end we cannot see, but 

We know we'll be together.

We know we'll be safe.

Loved.

Warm.

And happy.

Really, really happy.

Metal II

Sold, then.  Stripped of meaning, of purpose

Of real value...

Lovely gifts, once, 

Now pave the way for a new adventure

I was unsure, a little bitter and a lot guilty,

As if I owed something somehow.

But I suppose there are some debts paid

And some that can never be forgiven

Which is where I think we'll always be:

Paid in full, but never quite forgotten.

My own burden to bear until I choose to lay it down.

'Cause ain't nothin' you ever gonna say

's ever gonna make me forgive myself.

For all I did and had to do

To be free of all that held me down.  

Metal I

Sold.
Old gold, left here to
Rot it's holes in my
Skin so thin, so
Rough.
These little peaches, they're wonderfully sweet but I just can't eat them.
Peeling the skin off, I find a translucent bruised part that reminds me
Winged memory brushes just too close
A glancing blow, at most
But still.
Hollow, naked and purpling eyes stare back from my own
Eyelids and I
Open them to break the contest.

Strawberries.

I stand in my father's garden
Knee-deep in carrots and tomato plants.
Garish rhubarb sneaks a playful swipe at my shin.
I wade through the tall grass and pinch my favorite leaf
Of lemon balm by the door.
I breathe in the quiet musty earth of my childhood.
"Was I a good parent?" he had asked, words that echo here in my ears as I part the leaves of a strawberry plant to hunt for forgotten fruit.
"Am I a good person?" my reply mixes in between the lines.
I remember weekends building
Summers spent and earned in learning
Evenings I felt loved.
Our house was always warm and full of laughter
I learned the things a father ought to teach his daughter:
How to change a tire, build stairs, dance the moonwalk.
How to help a stranger.
How to do your best.
Memories condense on the maple leaves next to me here,
As I find a tiny tart berry that the slugs have spared.
It tastes like home.

Stick it.

Stick the landing.

Get through this.

Whiskey face, this old place

Blood sweat tears

Do it again.

We fight we scream

We cry and breathe we dream and hope.

Tell me, my friend,

Why oh why how can we stay?

When it's so very hard to walk away.

Where oh where, when

Will it end

What ever will we say,

Stand our ground.

Or let it all fall down

Just hold your head up either way

Hold your head up either way.

Going.

What is any of it for, anyway?
For happiness?  For love?  For service or for research or meaning or pleasure?
The real meaning of my Saturn Return closes in and chokes me here,
This, more than ever before, is my chance to decide -
Sex or Death?
Generativity or stagnation - can I make my life count for something?
Has it already?


Down down, baby.
Down by the rollercoaster.
Sweet, sweet baby -
This, oh this.
Door opening, opportunity staring me in the face
What happened to my sense of adventure, my
Bright-eyed wonder, wander-lust?
Danger and fear, come one come all!
Why am I so very afraid of this
Very very giant leap?
To trust you, to take your hand
Make good on my promise, put my money where my mouth is
To start a whole new life together
Seems so very overwhelming sometimes.
It's going to be fun, right?
It's fun if you make it,
Everything is what you make it
Spinning my wheels here, it's definitely time
But oh, to find the courage
The resolve
The faith...

I never ask "what if we fail?"
I know we'll succeed, we'll find our way and be spectacularly happy.
It's just...
Whatever will we do with everything we've left behind?
However will I let go, leave all these flowers to wilt or bloom as they will?
How will I ever say "goodbye"?