(For Dr. Kennedy Obohwemu)
From my frail body, my spirit is about to flee
from the throes of sorrow it's in,
The sharp sensations I keep experiencing
Is giving me concerns and has kept me
In a thin line between pains and death's regular chant of ASAP.
"What's wrong with you?"
My consultant says as he grabs my hand.
I direct my blank gaze at him and study the snake-like
stethoscope hanging round his neck and the pen
he was holding in his other warm hand.
The one that will probably write my adieu.
He drops my hand, picks up his notepad, scribbles
Opens my eye lids one after the other
Nods his head in quick succession,
Adjusts his second pair of eyes
Before finally raising his pen to continue scribbling...
I pity him, he's hardworking but he seems oblivious
Of the very reason why I've succumbed to the
Ills rocking my body.
The scribbling stops, he directs his glance at me
Slowly removes the snake thing curved round his neck
Adjusts his chair and slowly raise his head.
He's curious...
He clears his throat, adjusts his spectacles again, voices out..
"My dear, this life's ephemeral
Even so, it won't give you the best of life,
Rather it will send you pains and cause strife
that will increase your pace on the highway to your funeral."
Should I pout or flout?
His words: Poetic, soothing...
The weight's been lifted,
I'm healed.
Doctors and nurses are healers,
Poets and writers are too...
What about combinations of both?
Then they should be likened to gods
Perhaps, they are the descendant of Erinlẹ
The yoruba god of healing,
Medicine and comfort.
Physician, even to other gods..
They could also be the unknown sons and daughters of Zeus,
The king of gods of the Greek mythology...
Maybe they are the direct descendant of Hermes,
The crafty one among his sons
the messenger god who was the supreme being
In writing and languages...
©Akinwole John Akintayo
