And breathe
dishevelled, abandoned, neglected
houses of healing. Buzzing,
rustling in corridors, scurrying
in preparation for the long days.
Days of service, days of giving,
living with unimaginable
pain. Patients, patiently or not,
calling, needing your skills,
knowledge, care.
There in this safe space.
Breathe again,
deeply. Remember this warren
of wards, corridors of
connection, almost a city
itself. Florence fills the air
with her idealism.
Fresh air. Free from the worries
of the everyday.
Sanctuary.
Breathe deeply.
And now, move on.
