When working in a nursing home,

The news came of a woman who’d borne…

A baby in bed

Although brain-dead,

A male aide had raped her in scorn.

At the time, I washed up women,

Whose minds were dimming…

A young one’s head

Was damaged instead,

It hit me while changing her linen.

Not that I would enter that range,

But the feeling about the news felt strange…

Here I was thrust

With certain trust,

Of not performing similar exchange.

I didn’t work fast enough there,

Was canned despite all my care…

Shoving food down

I couldn’t get around

To doing with efficient flair!

–Jonathan Caswell

*NOTE:  Idea from a headline on LINKED-IN, where the author has an account.

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