Thread by @MarcusBlimi

An Ode to the 9th Floor

I’m not always calm at work.
I try to be-
Amidst the death
The scared patients
The exasperating family
The wavering choices.

But sometimes I get angry - when the elevator opens on the 9th floor
Where the walls are colorful
And Cinderella walks by.

I was mad
When I grabbed a quick lunch in the cafeteria
And saw a mom wheedling her baby
Weakly lying back in a stroller
Tube up her nose
Small scalp glinting
Refusing a bite of banana.

I got irate
When a group of doctors walked by
Deep in conversation
With red sponge noses
Extra-large ties under white coats
And clown shoes.

And I was furious
When I passed a couple in the hallway
With a 7-year old child
Pushing a Spiderman IV pole
Who stopped abruptly
Bent over
And threw up all over the floor.

Staff appeared out of thin air
And took care of all of them.
But I was fuming.

And on prom day I was enraged
As staff walked the halls in gowns
And children wore glitter and crowns
Carried by their parents
In tuxedos and dresses.

Because rage is more manageable than the deep, pervasive, invasive sadness that chokes me.