Our so-called National Health Service

I need to do more

Than describe how

It feels to be

Ill. Ill people

Know that and

Well people

Dont care or

Need to-unless

They’re doctors or

Nurses. Then

They do but

Time is scarce

No leisure for

Poetry or Patience

To untangle its

Worth hidden in

Pain’s twisted knots.

No, timepoor,

Drug-rich, cut

Off the knots,

Throw the

Bits of rope

Away, buy

Some new

Rope, sew it

On, nevermind

The seam-

Scar, quick

Job done.

To untie the

Knot involves

Understanding

And immersion

In the problem.

Yes, the rope may break at the seam later

But the knot was confusing.

Grounding myself with a ‘To do’ list

TO do today

To do today

To bring me

Down, tie me

Tight, back to

My rod, my

Inner sense,

My knowledge of

Myself, my

presence in the

World.

Untied I was,

Today, a floating

Balloon, no

Direction, just

Wind gusts of

Temptation

That wouldn’t

Have blown

Me off were

I tied up, safe.

But loose was

I, without

That knot of

Thought that

Used to be

Mine – That I

Gave to him

To untie or

Not. I think

He untied it,

I couldn’t see,

I’m a balloon,

But anyway,

I blame him.