The Weary Braveheart

The Weary Braveheart

Every day, I get to play God at work,
and take decisions that haunt me forever, 
It’s not a duty I can shirk. 

I haven’t seen anything like this ever, 
I witness tears, confessions, and regrets, 
and take decisions that haunt me forever. 

Every day I strive, but there are still many deaths, 
Haunted I am, by beseeching eyes filled with hope, 
I witness tears, confessions, and regrets. 

Oh Lord, give me the strength to cope, 
I don’t want to choose who gets to breathe, 
Haunted I am, by beseeching eyes filled with hope. 

When I lose a patient, I can’t grieve, 
The next one needs me, and I must be strong, 
I don’t want to choose who gets to breathe. 

I’m shattered but cannot rest for long, 
I hoist my weary soul, and trudge on with work. 
The next one needs me, and I must be strong, 
It’s not a duty I can shirk. 
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3 thoughts on “The Weary Braveheart

  1. Hi Lalitha. It’s a beautiful poem on doctors. I feel the best line in the poem is “I don’t want to choose who gets to breathe.” The poem is realistic and relevant in the present time.

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