PoetrySad Poems

Sick Call

In the bed of the sick
Is one fighting tooth and nail,
A battle of survival seems frail
As the clock continues to tick

Passing by your bed
I saw the sadness picking a seat
Saw optimism going to bed
Leaving symptoms standing on feat

It was so hard to understand
How the medics kept their calm
the amount of pain they were taught to withstand
Trying so hard not to uncover the harm

Take heart Mr. Walter
“We care but God cures,” he said
Good usage of time now is all that matters
Except the touch of divine upon your head.

Prosper prosper prosper is your soul
But I desireth great things for you in health
I desireth to make you totally whole
and grant you the fullness of rest.

I am the mighty healer without compromise
Faithful in all his dealings
But your spirit man is low and in gradual demise
reach out now to me and get a life refilling.

And you, Mr. Doctor of the physical
In your pain you brought many out of pain
You give comfort that are beyond the medicals
For generations you’ll be a hero to mundanes.

To my servant on the pulpit
It is true that I have called you to chastity
and total discipleship to Faith
From me you’ll continue to draw your strength

To my body, my royal people and diadem
My very creatures to one I’ve hand picked.
Continue praying for them
as they continue to minister to the sick

February 11, World Day of the Sick

Why not share?

Related Articles

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Check Also

Back to top button
error: Content is protected !!