Superman's busy, again, with a disaster he won't let her near. She's a little bit miffed, because it's not like she wasn't planning a career in the worst sorts of field for seeing horrors that a mundane human can get into even before The Incident, but then, it's not like he can read her mind and tell that she is as prepared for that as anyone possibly can be, that as much as he hopes to preserve her innocence, it's already long lost due to the nature of the world.
She can't exactly read minds either. She can only ping their feelings, reflected in the faint Indigo luminescence of her Lantern.
Still...This hospital is happy she's here, is hopeful that today will be a good day thanks to her presence, and that hope, reflected in her, can spark something wonderful. It can bring healing that no-one else on this planet can provide. And so, she strides down the halls of one of the most desperate hospitals in the US, staff tapping against the floor - because, despite her calling to care for the people of the galaxy entire, she does retain enough partiality to the USA that she will give it one guaranteed slot in her biweekly weighted-lottery hospital rota.
She doesn't need the mantra she is about to speak for herself. She needs it for the people who will hear it, for the people who will know that she is here now and they will be whole.
"Lost souls cry out in darkest night,
to see my Lantern shining bright -
With this pow'r I do what's right;
I bring hope, with compass'nate light."
This, at least, is the easiest color to draw upon without another Lantern; hope wants to build itself up. She's not a proper Blue, with the nigh-effortless healing and bolstering ways they have...but compassion and care and a Ring-grade medical database can fill the gaps as she opens her heart to feel the world's ills once more.
It might hurt, but it's worth it to fix them, and as she walks down the halls of the hospital, staff shining bright, spreading health to everyone she sees, she allows herself to smile, after the tears dry.