Poem: Night on call

night on call :: rita iovino

There are sometimes such moments of magic,
when the sky and mountains melt into the dawn
when the blue-purple horizon yields to the sun,
and the trek home
becomes a moment of epiphany.
Everything is still
and only the faint noise of sparrows
permeates the air.
The exhaustion and sweat and scrubs
become an exclamation of rebirth.
The gift of being a doctor
is magnified like dandelions blowing in the wind,
and one knows the skill of giving life,
the gift of alleviating pain;
the long night suturing becomes a dream
because now one more person
becomes whole by your latex gloves.
The sun breaks into a million bright lights
as you go home to sleep.


https://poetrying.wordpress.com/2015/03/24/night-on-call-rita-iovino/