Doctor or Patient
A poem about healing.
The state of the world, the constant demands on energy, when to take a breath. Schedule, discipline, when to take a breath.
Build strength, resilience, cope. You’re making a difference. My soul is dying.
This leads to that; X is a factor. It all comes together. Eureka! This is the thing. Now moving forward; then distracted, Y is a factor. I thought we had it sorted. Why couldn’t you just try?
Deep breath, no one is wrong; it will be this. I can never do that; I really don’t think it is that. Deep breath, start again.
Trying to be wise, using my senses. Bum on seat, breath through nostrils, sound of birds, taste in mouth, sight of weeping woman. What about this? Leaving better; perhaps until next time, perhaps forever. I will never know.
They say we are but conduits. Healing comes from the universe, from within. We are just conduits. It is not our energy that is taken, it is not our minds that are taxed, it is not our emotions kept at bay. Why then does the fatigue set in, slowly creeping upon us?
The timer goes, the smile is applied, thinking starts, the fragile guard is put in place. You, dear patient, are all. Symptoms are processed, a plan devised. Are we agreed? Let’s do it again.
Then, in the midst of the mundane: you changed my life. A surprised smile, disbelief, it isn’t true. No, really, you changed my life.
Thank you, you have just changed mine.
