Waiting For The Turn Poem by Pankajam Kottarath

Most of them have accepted
pain as part of life
fighting malignant cells
that try to oust their existence.
Perceptions of orphaned yesterdays
crying for rebirth
lurk in the meadows
of today's sore sentiments.
Memories are loops;
become clumsy
while trying to untie.

Consciousness of self, long lost,
for those who are on days counts.
Their sighs remain hot
within the boundaries of solitude.
A feather of relief comes
through caring hearts.
Perhaps God surveys mercy on earth
thro' the creation of poor.
In their wait for liberation,
the ultimate one is of no scare
when declared terminally ill
and deserted by kith & kin.

When the patient goes
to visit the doctor of doctors,
brick walls get replaced
by wooden planks.
From 10x10 to 6',
it is a tough journey
full of bumps.

Each one waits
for their own turn.