Sojourner Kincaid Rolle


Heal - Poem by Sojourner Kincaid Rolle

There is that time
when the pronouncements of surgeons
count not nearly as much as a whispered hope
when the fingers wielding scapel
can neither put back nor rejoin.
Herein is the real domain of the creator;
the building of the sinew,
the melding of synapse.

We grasp for life.
It is a involuntariness of human
outstretched fingers
reaching into the abyss - risking failure
knowing it is the welding power of love that must
reach into the sinew, across the synapse;
burning white hot,
warming the cooling bed.


Comments about Heal by Sojourner Kincaid Rolle

  • Vipins Puthooran (10/7/2011 1:00:00 PM)

    It's the fear of when we beg for life and so beg to the Creator... Fantastic poem (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, October 7, 2011

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 8, 2011


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