By Shem Onderi
Spare her the abuse—she’s in a delicate state.
A life is growing, a promise fulfilled, love taking shape.
The earth is filling, just as the Bible foretold;
A new life stirs—a miracle to behold.
Don’t intimidate her, Nurse, with harsh words or tone.
Her scent may be strong, but she bears that alone.
Detergents are scarce, perfumes a rare delight,
And the baby’s small nose may flinch—not her fight.
Her undergarments may be soiled, her body worn,
Yet she holds on, determined, through labor’s storm.
Her belly protrudes; she can’t bend with ease—
Still she pushes forward, with a love that won’t cease.
Nurse, the ward is full of women like her.
Let go of grudges—they’ll return and need your care.
You earn your keep by ushering new life into light.
Teach her, support her, help her through the night.
The baby is innocent—a gift to the earth.
Wrap them in love from the moment of birth.
The father may vanish to celebrate or roam,
But you, Nurse, are the one who brings this child home.
This is no war of guns, but a battle for breath.
So make your touch gentle—ease her from death.
For the birth of a child is a marvel to see:
And you, dear Nurse, help write their first memory.