Note: I wrote this several months ago, before legal compost really began hitting the proverbial fan. But I find that it is just as relevant today as it was when I first wrote it.
I have had several very disappointing encounters at work lately. One involved another nurse filing a report on me that was basically a work of fiction. Other incidents were the unrelenting rudeness of other staff members. I became very discouraged, and almost quit (although it's nice to have a way to pay the bills), or at least started to look for something else I could do in nursing. I've been in this profession for going on 14 years, and I have encountered rudeness, bad treatment, and "back stabbing" for want of a better term, periodically throughout my nursing career. I have had several people, at several different places try in one way or another to get me into trouble. All I really want to do is take care of my patients, in the best way that I know how.
But after my shift, the more ferocious, "she-wolf" part of me began to surface (those of you who know me as the liberal, "give peace a chance" type person don't usually see this side of me). I decided that leaving nursing because of one more person's bad behavior would be like condoning it, and making myself wrong for trying to be honest and decent. I am certainly not perfect--there have been days when I was under stress and lashed out at someone, but I truly try to bring a peaceful energy to what can be a chaotic environment.
But anyway, as I got home the other night, and my two cats greeted me, I realized that one of the reasons that I am such an animal lover is that animals are pretty much not deceptive. Certainly they have some irritating behaviors at times--Sam constantly tries to get outside, especially when I am bringing in groceries, and Rosie sneaks into the bathroom to drink out of the toilet (yuck), but animals are honest in a way that many of us humans (we humans?? Oh, well, you get the idea) are not. Animals are authentic in who they are, and after a week like I had with this nurse's report on me, it was wonderful to come home and know that my two cats would greet me, ask for food, play, sit on my lap, and hog the bed when I went to sleep.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Well, I'm back
For some masochistic reason, I am using the endquote from J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" series for my title.
It has been a rather horrendous couple of months. I really don't want to go into details, but the short story is that 1. I am embroiled in what may turn out to be a legal battle with my employer, 2. I think I have met the love of my life, but he wants to move far away from the Mitten, as early as July, and 3. I have had some mystery medical symptoms, which although they do not seem particularly life threatening, they are certainly getting in the way of my general lifestyle.
I did a Native American-style Vision Quest a couple of years ago, and the image and personality of Frodo appeared many times during my Quest. So, since I really don't want to go into detail about some of the "real life" problems that I have had, I will share with you a 'persona poem' about Frodo after he returns to the Shire.
For those of you who don't know, a persona poem is written in the voice of some other individual, whether it is someone you know from "real life," or a fictional character. I posted this poem at Poetry-Free-For-All during National Poetry Writing Month (another reason that I have been absent lately--I have been trying to keep up with the poem-a-day pace of the NaPoWriMo while simultaneously finishing graduate school).
Frodo's Homecoming
It has only been a year since
I last slept in this bed. Now
the soft sheets beneath my
back and legs are foreign.
It was not the nights
sleeping on rock and ash
or the days without comfort
that removed me from this land.
Trees bloom again.
Water flows and roses grow
out of the bare soil,
slowly healing the wounds of the earth.
The sounds of joy replace
the forced silence of oppression:
Weddings, music, and laughter fill the air,
but only jangle against my ears
like the discordant sounds of strife
that I grew so used to hearing.
Now
as my arm goes cold
and the burning in my chest
keeps me pacing through my silent house,
I think of that night long ago
when my last ancestor bid me farewell
and disappeared,
innocent of his dark bequest.
On some days, when the wind is warm from the West
I can walk to the top of the knoll and stand quite still,
I can faintly perceive the scent
of the sea as it drifts inland, and for a few moments,
I shut my eyes
and feel some echo of relief.
I want to make some changes to this poem, but I decided to post it in its most "raw" form.
Peace, Willow
It has been a rather horrendous couple of months. I really don't want to go into details, but the short story is that 1. I am embroiled in what may turn out to be a legal battle with my employer, 2. I think I have met the love of my life, but he wants to move far away from the Mitten, as early as July, and 3. I have had some mystery medical symptoms, which although they do not seem particularly life threatening, they are certainly getting in the way of my general lifestyle.
I did a Native American-style Vision Quest a couple of years ago, and the image and personality of Frodo appeared many times during my Quest. So, since I really don't want to go into detail about some of the "real life" problems that I have had, I will share with you a 'persona poem' about Frodo after he returns to the Shire.
For those of you who don't know, a persona poem is written in the voice of some other individual, whether it is someone you know from "real life," or a fictional character. I posted this poem at Poetry-Free-For-All during National Poetry Writing Month (another reason that I have been absent lately--I have been trying to keep up with the poem-a-day pace of the NaPoWriMo while simultaneously finishing graduate school).
Frodo's Homecoming
It has only been a year since
I last slept in this bed. Now
the soft sheets beneath my
back and legs are foreign.
It was not the nights
sleeping on rock and ash
or the days without comfort
that removed me from this land.
Trees bloom again.
Water flows and roses grow
out of the bare soil,
slowly healing the wounds of the earth.
The sounds of joy replace
the forced silence of oppression:
Weddings, music, and laughter fill the air,
but only jangle against my ears
like the discordant sounds of strife
that I grew so used to hearing.
Now
as my arm goes cold
and the burning in my chest
keeps me pacing through my silent house,
I think of that night long ago
when my last ancestor bid me farewell
and disappeared,
innocent of his dark bequest.
On some days, when the wind is warm from the West
I can walk to the top of the knoll and stand quite still,
I can faintly perceive the scent
of the sea as it drifts inland, and for a few moments,
I shut my eyes
and feel some echo of relief.
I want to make some changes to this poem, but I decided to post it in its most "raw" form.
Peace, Willow
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