Dingy

Long ago this coat lost it's fresh white gleam,

bent over railed beds, and strained faces.

Worn, on long nights of study chasing a dream

working in less than prestigious places.

Worn working nights in a full ER's crying shout,

for more staff to process the pain walking in,

and waiting too long, before relief walked out,

Listening to stories held together by stitches. Again.

Stitched by a hand that shook, in anger she didn't hide,

until she finished, when action took away the inaction,

and a phone call brought justice to the bed side,

and she moved on, to put a broken leg in traction.

Story after story, each one told in a voice too young,

Lip split, below eye blackened, on a battered child.

She turned down promotions, ignored praises sung,

being what she'd needed. More than a just report filed.

She never forgot to look behind the noisy tears,

to take a moment to calm the child's fears

in a dingy coat that lost it's gleam long ago.

She never gave up, and took that cushy job,

leaving behind ER's full of children to be a snob

in a snow white coat, with well pressed intentions.