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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required From Sunday to Sunday, We work hard like the donkeys in sironko; Moving to and fro like roadside vendors and hawkers. Like the holy spirit has descended upon as, The way it was on pentecost,we move up and down all day. We go to the laboratory from the ward, From the theater to the morgue, To the store from the supervisor's office. Thinking hard and keeping our brains in check, We go to work everyday to save the dear lives of mothers and babies. A blow of sadness hits our faces, Whenever we lose one of them to death. Regret fills our hearts for where we were negligent; And we live never to forget that moment, When,we relaxed on duty and messed things up. Sometimes,a feeling of giving up kisses our lips; And soon,when we are yet to verbalize it, That we have given up and cannot try anymore, Or that we are tired and clients should leave us alone, give us a break; Sense overrules, and we return to our ethical boundaries. We work,work,work;- like Rihanna sings. We work and work and work till the work itself is tired of us; But still,we work to save their lives; mother's and babies. Pushing and screaming; crying and fighting, Quarrelling and abusing us; We urge her to breathe in,and breathe out; To relax and calm down,and think not about anything other than her baby; Whom,she has carried for nine months, Persevering through the sleepless nights and pregnancy complications Just to see her child become someone who will breathe and live on its own. On the other hand,we desist from the temptation to slap her; She can mean to be disappointing sometimes; you know?? A smile tickles our lips,and our teeth,we hide no more. Sweat runs down our faces,but we forget to wipe it away, overwhelmed with joy! The crying of the baby,is the joyful laughter of the mother. It is the peaceful relief of the midwife. Allover the world,that is what we do. That's our daily routine.
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