By P. Pharm, RN

The flame that ignites passion
Born deep in our souls
Can burn out rather quickly
If left out in the cold.

I’ve lost much that I loved
In a combustible mess
That flame kept on taking
And left me with less.

It traveled from my hands
To my head and to my toes
It turned my pink to gray
My heart was last to go.

The thumps turned into nothing
My blood into messy ash
Tears evaporated in silence
My essence left as trash.

We are not garbage to lose
To forget and to be thrown out
We give everything until nothing
We are priceless no doubt.

I am experienced and tenured
Jaded and sweetly sour
Beaten and abused
Forced to apologize and cower.

We are not a special piece
Of a workable puzzle
We are replaceable and silent
Wearing a professional muzzle.

So when someone looks fresh
Like moldable new clay
Their flame can die out quickly
To be forgotten and blown away.