Solitude,
in the realm of palliation
Wither
away in the calmness of dedication
The
peril they face is far unpredictable
Any
mind can whisper where my life is?
That
never ends when in pain
The
wound in his hand asks why such pain
To
him it is a strait between life and death
No cannula can
win his worries
He
bothers his son for some penny
He
absorbs his pain within himself
Just
to convince others that he can live
His
happiness fades away in the darkness of ‘CA’
After
23 cycles, he prepares for his next chemo
His
loved ones sit beside him, saying their woes
Living
in the open shed of the chronic place
He
tastes namkin food, but no means
The
menial sum his son gives hardly matters
His
worry is his pain in his penis
When
it will cure, God knows
Doctors’
sayings end up in tramadol
Just
to make a try, to give him a shelter-
hamsakka
asked, Will u shift to dharamshala?
He
smiled leaving the decision to his son who is away
We
dressed his wounds by making him more careful
But
flies never stop doing their jobs
We
took one blanket and handed over to him
Just
to bring a relief to him in the noose of winter
His
sarong, his hands and the blanket in his arms
All
still remain in my mind, our mission continues...
-
Ajith Kumar
(Sometimes even the hardcore Statistics Experts also
become Poets to express their feelings on seeing the plight and misery of
ailing patients)
why such a sympathetic heart hurt me alone
ReplyDeletepeople have to appear they are the greatest sympathizers of humanity,but in real life thingas are different.
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