WHAT kind of tools of the trade do doctors require?

They will use a stethoscope to listen to the patient’s heartbeat, an otoscope to examine the patient’s nose and ears, a thermometer to take the patient’s temperature – and lots more.

But what about a little book of poems? Should that be part of a GP’s toolkit?

I’m raising this because a group of doctors and poets have got together to produce a book of poems for new doctors.

The prime movers are two compassionate doctors, Lesley Morrison and John Gillies. The Rev Ali Newell, associate chaplain at Edinburgh University, was also among those involved. Lesley and John thought that it would be helpful to give newly graduating doctors a book of poems to add to their toolkit.

“We hope that you will find your work satisfying and enjoyable,” they say in the foreword. “There will be times when it is also emotionally draining and diffcult and, for those times, we offer Tools of the Trade, a little book of poetry, a friend to carry with you and consult when you need comfort, inspiration or connection with the outside world. Or when what the poet Mary Oliver calls ‘this is one wild and precious life’ is proving particularly challenging.

“Being a doctor is a privilege. You will hear stories that perhaps no one else has ever heard; patients will share their innermost feelings and secrets with you.”

But why poetry?

“Art and literature provide invaluable insights into the human condition and what makes us the people we are. The criteria for choosing the poems in this little book were that they were intelligible, short and, in some way, spoke to the experience of being a doctor... To care and be compassionate to others, we first need to be compassionate, to look after, to be kind, to ourselves. To deal with others’ stress we need to find ways of coping with our own; keeping as physically, mentally, emotionally well as possible is important. Tools of the Trade may sometimes provide just the right tonic.”

I think this is a brilliant idea. The little book, which is published by the splendid Scottish Poetry Library, is a spiritual resource.

I particularly like this poem in the collection, called Going without Saying, by Bernard O’Donoghue:

It is a great pity we don’t know When the dead are going to die

So that, over a last companionable Drink, we could tell them

How much we liked them.

Happy the man who, dying, can Place his hand on his heart and say: ‘At least I didn’t neglect to tell

The thrush how beautifully she sings.’

“ It strikes me that this would be a great idea to be taken up by the Kirk: the gift of a little book of selected poems for new ordinands who are setting out on a vocational journey that will inevitably bring tears of sadness and joy.

It strikes me that this would be a great idea to be taken up by the Kirk: the gift of a little book of selected poems for new ordinands who are setting out on a vocational journey that will inevitably bring tears of sadness and joy.

Ordinations can sometimes be marked by stale piety – mind you, I like what David Graham, who had innovative ministries in Glasgow, Iona and Aberdeen, used to do: he would look each ordinand in the eye, shake their hand, and say, “Enjoy your ministry.”

But poetry can reach the parts that other forms of communication may not reach.

Let’s go there.