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For A Social Worker
What spark in you
Is this that burns
To comfort one
Whose well is pain,
That turns the nightmare
End of dreams
To thoughts of worth
From where they came?
And what the essence
Of your creed
That parts the cloud
In every stare,
You spend your lightning,
Spill each need
Then dredge and heal
Each long despair.
While at the mortgaged
End of dearth
They steal your essence,
Bleed your will,
To leave you sworn
To tears or mirth
While those who care...
Care for you still.
12 April 1984
poem
by
David Lewis Paget
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