Frontline Workers Of An Invisible War

This is a short poem I delivered for my hospital’s COVID memorial service. I wanted to honor and encourage my fellow medical workers.

Frontline Workers of An Invisible War

Weary. Waiting. Worried. Workers.

Drafted into a fight we cannot see.

Terrible, Trying, Turbulent Times

Is there anywhere to flee?

Where does the wounded hero go

when they are weak and struggling to see

how they can go much further

when it is so hard to believe

Each day is filled with trauma.

Invisible griefs

Of a war fought on the front lines

Wounds to the heart with no reprieves

Grenades of trauma have exploded

Your service brought you into its radius of pain

You comfort and care for many

But who comforts and cares for you and the grief you retain?

Many clap and applaud

but few understand

the unique sacrifices you take

as you love with your own hand

You travel from the frontlines to home

Carrying the baggage of the fight

emotional whiplash

as you travel from darkness to light.

This war is a talking point for some

but a persons face for you

accumulated moments of grief

of sights, sounds that cut through.

"Am I a monster?" She asked me

"Because I feel nothing anymore"

I thought for a minute

No, I said, remember, this is war.

We are not robots.

We bleed and feel and hurt

you are human and real

just trying to make it through alert

Where does the wounded hero go?

Back to work on Monday.

We know you are tired

you've done more than we could ever repay

You held the hand of someone’s dad

Stayed with their child until nine

you were the thread that held

people together when it was the end of their time

Weary. Waiting. Worried. Workers.

Drafted into a fight we cannot see.

Terrible, Trying, Turbulent Times

soon there will be a place to flee.