Nightingale’s Lamp
Demanding schedule,
Shadows lengthen in the quiet hours.
Everyone pushing pens, crumpled papers in bins,
Mistakes made, restarts with no end.
Demands unmet, demands that are too much,
Yet the heart still whispers dreams of peace.
Desperately seeking solace in the stillness of the night,
Navigating nightmares in Teams meetings,
Seeking calm amidst the digital storm.
And wondering what the hell people actually do in the NHS,
Searching for meaning in the chaos.
Hierarchical structures and sardonic grins,
NHS rules and no parking spaces for nurses.
Dementedly, they denounce our demands,
Yet we persist in the face of adversity.
High in their echelons, blind to the ground,
They allocate funds while we bear the weight,
Unseen is the strain, the scarcity profound,
And we stand resilient, meeting needs without debate.
Yet still we stand, unyielding in the fray,
For our patients, for each other, come what may.
In unity, we rise, facing the storm,
Finding strength, resilience, a new norm.
Channeling Nightingale’s lamp, though snuffed out,
And Seacole’s courage, steadfast in the fray,
We rise as they did, with resilience and clout,
Guardians of care, in a new dawn’s ray.
Though we stand as healers in halls of power,
Our voices, at times, are but whispers in the tower.
Yet in unity, we rise, unbroken,
Ensuring every story, every truth, is spoken.
Through every trial, we stand unbroken,
With the spirit of healers past, our legacy spoken.
In unity, we forge a brighter way,
Champions of tomorrow, in the light of a new day.”
Copyright ©
Gabrielle Munslow
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