I was once told
that my mind was a "gift"
not to be wasted
on the banalities of modernity.
I was honored
as a young man
to soar to new sights
an eagle above boys;
an enigma in this age.
I dreamed of a day
when cast in a cloak
of white cloth
healing powers
would transcend
through my touch.
Yet, now as a son
of the alpha and the omega
a foot soldier
amidst marines,
I toil in hallways
under the shadow of "time."
I once calculated the anion gaps,
the alveolar-arterial gradients,
and corrected calciums,
of patients and people,
with a hope to heal.
Now my elementary arithmetic,
is spent adding 24 + 6,
subtracting one day in 7
equaling a total of hours (80);
in the hopes of not violating
the dictum of "duty."
Merely a distraction,
from the true reality
of the broken system
of fractured care,
within the sanitary wards
coined "modern medicine."
