A Surgeon
He is a loner but finds bliss in those specialised rooms,
With gloves and knives he takes a comfortable breath!
His favourite scent:The smoke of the cautery’s fumes,
On a sleeping body, he dates the angel of death!
Washed arms, scrubbed self, shoes with his name on...
He dives in the mystery and misery of disease!
Wounds of trauma make love with sutures of nylon...
The fractures heal and the pain comes on its knees!
His blood stained outfits become his shields of honor,
Sweat on his forehead makes his conscience shine,
The victory displays on monitor screens in the corner,
As life returns back and the patient now feels fine!
(Dr Husam Jamil)
(2014)
