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Poem

Who Am I?

Because I was born out of wedlock, 
My mum and dad taught me that the poor were good, 
And that so many just needed a doctor, 
To understand them when they were crook. 

No-one else had ever treated them, 
Doctors in Israel only attended rich people’s houses, 
And the prestige of being wealthy, 
Was derived from our interest in their happiness. 

It was imbued into me that love was given, 
From the heart by acts of kindness, not by money,
And that you could love somebody, anybody, anytime, 
Out with social rhetoric or rhyme. 

I was good at joinery, 
But my inquisitive mind took me into medicine, 
Into making people better, healthier, fit and able, 
Not paralysed, dying or suffering from epileptic seizures.

Day one, and I just hoped I would have a cold, 
But that was not to be you see, 
So I took a deep breath and grit my teeth,
And in humility treated the first poor person ever. 

Shock and horror and the neighbours talking, 
Nobody there to wipe my slightly embarrassed sweated brow, 
Only John my best friend hung around outside, 
Whilst I bandaged up the labourer’s lacerated leg. 

But soon after, when I had set my practise, 
Luke befriended me bold and stalwartly, 
Because he was just a normal Nazareth doctor, 
And I’d been predicted as the people’s saviour from bad health. 

Not noted as the original national health service, 
But respected thereafter ‘cos they said I’d resurrected, 
They gave me a voice when I was dead and long gone, 
Said that they believed in me with everything they had.  

Everyone knew what was meant when they admitted, 
“I believe in Jesus!” because it was a stand,  
For the freedom and life of the poor, for a just society, 
Which gave these supposed sinners access to medical doctors. Grand.

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