The Hospital
A building, a structure
A haven for the unwell
Where life & death are prevalent
A place so many dwell
Its outside frame seems somewhat dull
But inside; it’s quite a mix
The people there are what really matter
Without, it would be nix
Some enter it with confidence
Others with high hopes
Some come in with scared eyed looks
Others, unable to cope
Hearing the sad news of a loved one
An accident, disease, or scare
That led them to this place
It all seems like a night mare
The people here are universal
Races mixed and matched
People come in all shapes and sizes
From age 100 to just being hatched
The environment is distinctive
Some areas silenced with peace
The ER is certainly not one of them
Where most are barely at ease
The outwear is unique as well
For those who choose to stay
They wear scrubs, white coats, suits & stethoscopes
The patients wear what they may
It’s ironic that this building
Can hold so many mixed emotions
If only doctors could cure all
With some magic potion
This is a place for the dying
It’s a place for the bereaved
A place of caring, loving hearts
And hope for the well to soon leave
This place is called, a hospital
Those who enter it should know
That its worth all the pain and strife
If you leave from it and grow
-Tricia Lawrenson
{I wrote this several years ago, after living a good portion of my life behind closed doors in The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia and at Duke University Medical Center. Not only can a parent and patient of a chronic illness like cystic fibrosis can relate to this poem. But so many more lives who have been dramatically changed when walking through those doors.}
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