Healing went to the doctor
Complaining about her slowed walk.
'Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!
She yelled: 'I am slow in my walk!
I'm buried by illness so predatory.
Like Arctic deep-freeze in February.
My eyes blinded by his glare
My legs paralyzed by his stare
illness the menace my hare
Always giving me the dare.
He speeds up ahead of me
Casting doubts on my esprit.
By his thrust, to the ground I am pinned!
His spark lighting flash on my mind.
Is winning all about speed?
Determining ones creed!
illness zips by me, mocking;
His actions utterly shocking.
What do I do? I have no clue.
I feel like a fly stuck in glue.
Is it my dragging legs?
They feel like twisted pegs.
Why does fate hold me back?
Am I cursed with slack? '
Her doctor answered with a wisecrack:
'Don't worry about your lack or perceived slack,
It's not speed that counts at the end,
Or illness lifestyle's fickle trend!
I've seen patients come and go,
Complaining about head, foot and toe.
Most destined by intuition to stay the course,
But are distracted by self-inflicted Trojan horse
What really matters in this race is common sense;
To reach wellness finish line the best defence.
No other healing compares or counts,
When tip toeing here or there, flipping like daily discounts.
With self-determination Healing you will forge ahead,
And with steady footprints your destiny will tread,
Into longevity your tale will embed
Will be your greatest legacy's thread! '
Copyright Leaking Pen 2012
March 10 2012
November 13,2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem