I intently listen to every word you say

          but still, you’re sick 

I answer all your questions, I speak in a gentle tone, and I don’t rush out of the room

          but still, the cancer constricts you

I research every possible avenue to health

          but still, you can’t get up

I am the first to check on you every morning

          but still, you can’t eat

 

I sit at the edge of the bed and hold your hand

          but still, you’re dying

I speak to your husband, son, and daughter

          but still, you look at me like you don’t understand

I don’t understand either

          Because you won’t walk out the door

          and I’ll be on edge of a new patient’s bed