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POETRY

THE SICK DOCTOR

Stitching skins
Fixing bones
Like one with God’s hands
She lives like sickness’ feared zone
None dares to look for any ills
In her body territory
But sicknesses know the saying
A cat is best suited
For the safekeeping of meat
So what she healed
Crawled like dying snakes
Into her being and gained strength
From her special places
So much for Godship prominence
“Mmmmm, Agyeiiii! Pue! Ahhhh!”
She lies in front of eyes of interest
Naked like a featherless fowl
Under the scrutiny of hungry but uninterested hawks
Receiving rains of shocks
From dark rooms of mouths
Some casting their sun’s rays
For others to have a proper look
Poor poor sick doctor!
I wish I had a hand like hers
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

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By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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