In Need of Social Medicine

the old man sees a doctor:

I am sick

I am not sick 

I am old…

how are you sick?
the doctor asks 

see? why should I come 
if I knew how I’m sick?

no seer asks the what or the how 
I am sick
she knows it:
she tells what rituals to do 
and to heal fast and last 
 
I’d rather see a seer
and go home 
and stretch my legs 
to my coffin length… 

he staggers to walk out 
turns to the doctor 
speaks to the patients 
in the waiting room:

dead
or 
dying	
I am as alive 
as many of the living!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Lamoureux Avatar
November 29, 2015 at 10:18 AM
The inner death of the spirit is far more painful than the dieing of the body.
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