Carol Battaglia
Chicago, Illinois
To nurse |
Hospital halls |
To Care To Solace To Touch To Feel To Hurt To Need To Heal, others as well as ourselves. |
I have walked these hospital halls for many years now. Thousands of steps, thousands of words, it’s no wonder I’m tired. Talked out. The emotions of others swirl around me. Some happy, some relief, some burdened with grief. Sometimes I turn a corner and lose myself, sometimes I turn a corner and find myself. You just never know. |
Breath |
The Plight of Nursing |
I have felt the breath of newborns sweep softly across my face, and stood in wonder at the sweetness of new life. I have felt the breath of those in pain, and stood startled as it crashed jaggedly, hurtfully across my face. Marking me in its strife. I have felt the breath of someone dying, air pulling and tugging at my face as if trying to capture some of my life for its own. And I stood defeated, resigned, and helpless. Unable to harness its dying force, unable to stem its flow, I sensed its final futility and reverently let it go. |
I am the “Lady with the Lamp.” A stranger moving in and out of your world shadow-likeI brush the edges of your fear, leaving some of myself behindSometimes at the end of my shift, I cannot account for all of me.I retrace my steps, in hopes of putting myself back together again. |
HealingIf I have found an outlet |
CAROL BATTAGLIA was born and raised in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago. She recently retired from Loyola Medical Center after practicing nursing there for 30 years. She is the author of 3 books, and has been described as a minimalist who writes with a Haiku rhythm. She is currently completing a book of spiritual poems.
Acknowledgement
Carol would like to acknowledge, with gratitude, the encouragement and support she has received over the years from Mary Ann McDermott, professor emeritus at Niehoff School of Nursing, Loyola University Chicago.
Highlighted in Frontispiece Summer 2009- Volume 1, Issue 4
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