The Telling
I recall my father sitting on a small stool in the kitchen / dialing friends and family, one by one, rippling outward
I recall my father sitting on a small stool in the kitchen / dialing friends and family, one by one, rippling outward
I did not stay down / I did not give up
my patient does not have insurance / he asks me to address his concerns
Illness lies hidden in our ways / Influenced by the unconscious gaze.
“One” / It read. / Unassuming in black and white
Scared and frightened, we came in as interns / We had the knowledge, but we needed direction
To help a soul / To heal a wound / To hold a hand / To walk again