Heal Thyself O Patient: Part Vii Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

And my great healer looked graver than ere,
His flair deserting him not even once,
He swirled around in chair at me to stare,
And looked as if inspired by Providence,
More dumb than mute I cursed my accursed fate.
‘You should feel happy it's only left hand',
He declared, mouth ajar like public gate,
‘Worst, we can amputate if beyond mend'!

‘Irritating as it takes rather long,
‘Tuber is easy, can always be cured—
‘Tissue or bone— and hope cancer… not is'.

He almost sang much like a movie song,
And assumed that I was pretty assured,
He then talked of costs with consummate ease.
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This is a sequence of nine sonnets on one theme. See the note at end of the last poem.
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Sonnets | 09.11.12 |
Topic: body, nature, healing, doctor, patient