A Homage of Walking Through the Same Halls as Dorothy Day at Kings County Hospital, Brooklyn, NY
It was a different time
the same place
but a different body,
a different face.
It was Miss Day and Miss T., who served the sick and fallen
with God's love and devotion to share,
were able to drift away without the contagious maladies
of those in their care.
"Nurse Day, my head is so hot,
I feel feverish so weak."
"Nurse T., I hurt," the child with polio cried,
from the iron lung, comfort to seek.
You were overworked and worn out
on the orthopedic floor,
No one but us knew it was leprosy
it said, "Hansen's Disease" on the door.
It was a different time
the same place
but a different body,
a different face.
You wore protective garments
as you began your day,
we donned white gowns, masks, gloves, and booties
for protection we'd pray.
You challenged the Spanish flu,
at your own risk.
Our Rufus, a sweet baby with rickets
that made him so sick.
It was a different time
the same place
but a different body,
a different face.
You went to church and prayed with Miss. Adams,
your colleague and friend.
"We are not here to play, to dream, to drift,"
we sung in our chapel, a message to send.
We were both there for them,
no matter who or what
to bathe, care, soothe and offered
the TLC of God's love to impart.
Oh yes, it was a different time
the same place
but a different body,
a different face.
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