He is no different
With pain in left shoulder
Went to see my doctor
I wore bag for showing
How, why, where.
Clinic was a mess
Sure filled with problems
Doctor's son also there.
I am told is mental
Partially not total.
Later on came his wife
For reason and a cause
Could it be after fight?
In waiting were patients
And I was among them.
He is no different
Has to face the jungle.
Movement was too slow
Seemed to take my lifetime.
Finally I went in
I kept on standing
Doctor in other room
Due to pain could not sit.
Somehow once he told me
Had to keep on working
Though is old and shaking
For son must earn living.
The mess of clinic resembled stable
Saw myself as mule, or a horse, or donkey.
New fact in open to accept: "He is no different! "
With his pain he has burned holes in me
No cure are tablets he gave me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem