Campo: When we take care of patients we are immersed in stories, in language, in metaphor. Every encounter is a form of poetry, because I think in poetry, we experience immersion in another person’s voice, in another person’s story.
Here’s the opening of a poem called “Lost in the Hospital”
It’s not that I don’t like the hospital.
Those small bouquets of flowers, pert and brave.
The smell of antiseptic cleansers.
The ill, so wistful in their rooms, so true.
My friend, the one who’s dying, took me out
To where the patients go to smoke, IV’s
And oxygen in tanks attached to them—
A tiny patio for skeletons…