They’re trained to do the work of love
dispassionately
as if they are the most loving friends
that you could ever have
and, miraculously,
there to help you in your hour – no, those vital minutes –
of your need (and ours) , with every skill
that human beings can devise
to save their fellows;
if they were angels,
could they do a better job?
and today, if we tried to thank them
on the phone – they’d have to call us back…perhaps…
that’s if we could ever get through – no,
sorry, we don’t know their names, that’s
why we’re phoning…yes, security, I understand…
or if we left a message,
picked up as they, weary, leave their shift
that’s been extended due to an emergency or three,
they may have difficulty in remembering
just which that case was, which they dealt with
as lovers even could not,
as angels; human beings as human as could be..
or know how many wept, how many
held their breath, how many prayed;
how many wondered how to pray;
how many are more grateful
than they might ever put in words -
you nameless ones,
I hope that somewhere in your hearts
as you take a few hours’ sleep
before your next redemption of humanity
you may take whatever strength you may ever need
from
yours truly and sincerely,
Her Other Friends
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0040-for-tara-s-friends-named-and-unnamed/
