Sandra Dodd

Rookie (April 17,1967 / Los Angeles, CA)

While I Waited........... - Poem by Sandra Dodd

I saw a Granny
Petite, smiling
bald as you can be.
She was being
to and fro
by her family.
Atop her lap
was another baldy,
small and giggling
The young man
with a beard
hiding the long face
I guessed was her son.

I saw a girl
not more than three
so normally
in a red wagon
being pulled
by her daddy.
He was smiling, giving love.
Just behind
went the mommy
so drawn in face and very weary
I saw in her
loss of heart, beaten spirit
as she wheeled
the tripod octopus’
of IV drips
that were to save
her oldest little sis

There was a stadium
filled with gleeful folk,
not one frown or blank stare
They had made
a mighty fortress
of waiting chairs.
With their jokes, gleeful chatter
They spoke of a woman
you knew had made herself matter
with a lifetime of giving love
They all wore the same color
They knew so much
of her medial quandry
You just knew she would make it
for all the love
would pull her through

I saw so many rushing
here and there
They were dressed
ugly blue fatigues,
green scrubs,
white coats like the oceans.
As the move in track star fashion
here to there
on their phones
Saying soldier things
you cant decipher.
They had studied,
Sweat of brow
guardsmen like dedication
driven by determination
to learn the healing
to save the ones
that I had seen

Then it struck me
that they are saving not
a life
but whole families
from the dread of
never knowing
the full course
of their love

They had borrowed
a lot of much money
to go to schools
to learn how to give
more years of walking
with a smile
behind that wagon
drawn with love

They had skipped
a few fun times
To learn the craft
of giving
One more decade
Strolling together
with hair all made up
Now with the hope
they dispense
babies could grow
to ask the grama
how she had met
and fell in love

They had studied
with pinpoint focus
years of what seem
to you and me
like hocus pocus
to save the matriarch
of a stadium of love.

I was so glad to see
sitting there
in my waiting
that when there is
human frailty
there are the soldiers
with hours of drill training
Razor sharp judgment
Pinpoint focus
Selfless loving
of their vocation
rushing to the battle
dispensing hope
with their
highly trained love

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 2, 2010

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