prose, story

Doctor’s Yoke

“Doctor heal me!”

She cries out with desperation.

Yet when he asks her,

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Her lips are sealed.

.

A doctor helps.

But how

If she restricts her speech?

If she conceals her inner cries?

If she assumes things to fall to place?

.

Whether or not the doctor asks

As long as no words pour,

Powerless he remains.

The expertise doesn’t matter.

.

But a doctor is patient.

He understands.

and hopes.

.

And under his breath, he swore.

“I will wait.”

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s