Heal Thyself O Patient: Part I Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Two scores of ripe years ere, remember I,
At shower or at shaving, soothing hair,
Bending my elbow turned when painful nigh,
I wondered whence this hurt had tip-toed ere
Unknown to me, as seasons oft set in
Before we know, till one day truth we see,
And tune into the change if not so keen;
More than the pain the ailment annoyed me.

And the medic I met cool was as I,
Tad too sure, called it a tennis elbow,
And cavilled I, not having played the game,

Muffling a suppressed laugh and politely,
He, with air of Socrates let me know:
Forget name, thorn by any pain's the same.
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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 | 03.11.12 |
Topic: body, nature, healing, doctor, patient