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


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


Untied I was,

Today, a floating

Balloon, no

Direction, just

Wind gusts of


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.