Inside everyone is a great shout of energy waiting to be born.       – David Whyte

Fatigue enters the life of every committed caregiver. In those times, no matter how committed and loving, the prospect of facing one more patient or one more client or one more phone call can seem overwhelming.

      If you’re feeling strong at the moment you read this, it may be difficult to recall the bone-tired exhaustion you have felt at those other harder times. The emptiness at the end of working a double-shift, the way you felt at the end of child labor right before your baby was born, or simply the fatigue you feel when the alarm erupts before dawn. In the comfort of your own bed, the temptation to hide there can feel very appealing. And then some pinprick of light appears, first a bother, then recognized as the glow of hope rising from someone calling to you for help. Off in the distance, you are needed. And your humanity will rise, once again, to greet that hopeful need with your love…

     What does hope look like when she interferes with our relaxation? What color & shape does she take and how do we welcome her arrival at the edge of our eyes?

Last Hope

Last eve when I merged with the dusk

& the new night began to swallow

the only light left in the final corner

of my heart. Last eve, since I couldn’t stop

her, I let the night darken me with her soft

blanket. Hope’s moon was sheathed in clouds

& I rested unseen beneath the covers.

Why not let what’s left dissolve into the

powerful black? Darkness is for hiding &

black can be a kind partner if you want to

turn your back on everyone’s demands. No

one can command the invisible, can they?

I was tired & never wanted to work again.

The wind settled & the lightless night grew

heavy & everyone & everything was gone

except for something, out on the edge

of my right eye, an irritation, a single firefly soft-

blinking from his lighthouse a solitary yes.

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Who among us has not tried to hide from need beneath the comfortable covers of indifference? It is human to love, and it is also human to seek our own rest. In the middle of the night, the baby cries. Who will rise and why? In the middle of the day, a call light comes on at the nurse station. It’s that pesky patient again. Who will respond? The Alzheimer’s patient wants you to sit with her a little longer and you’re tired and you know she won’t remember whether you were there or not. She looks up at you with the tears of need in her eyes. Will you lend her hope your presence for awhile?