Brave

By Zara Bosman

They operate in the spaces in-between 
In the shadowlands of hospitals
Emergency room nurses with voices full of quiet encouragement  
Gentle hands that stitch and swab
They know how long the night is, the hours that stick together like glue

In the supermarkets they scan your groceries
They make small talk through the fabric of their masks
For some customers it’s the only conversation they’ll have all week
They know the value of a friendly question, of a ‘How’re you?’
As essential as your bread and milk

Late at night they clean our buildings 
They work in a rhythm that is like a meditation
Scrubbing, sweeping, mopping, wiping away bad dreams
Until the surfaces are smooth like the curves of a rosary
They know the world, they live without illusions, without romance

Theirs is the world of reality
They know the sound of a person’s breath leaving them for the last time
It is shallow, like a bath being drained
They know about loneliness, its unbearable weight
It’s work that’s undone each day, underpaid

It is the work of the brave

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Written Word ‘Heart’ poems