Pofessor, Listen to Me



I am doubting,

Yes doubting,

I want to be like you,

But I doubt,

I might run,

And fail to reach the mark,

But I carry hope,

Hope for a better tomorrow,

That one day,

I will be a bone doctor,

Just like my professor,

The professor of my freshman self,

I remember your presence,

In the anatomy lab,

On summer evenings,

With confidence,

Of a Hollywood surgeon,

The surgeon in Grey’s anatomy,

You came to give me hope,

And behind your smile,

I saw years of experience,

I saw deaths that came along the way,

I saw times that you felt like despairing,

But love for the art kept you going,

That is the same message that you preached,

When we were dismantling the human body,

As you talked,

I saw the secrets of life,

The simple physics,

That makes me stride or chew,

I showed you the ulnar nerve,

And you said it can be entrapped,

At the groove between the medial epicondyles,

That was back then,

In my freshman years,

I read anatomy,

I slept and dreamt anatomy,

But the more I read,

The more I forgot,

I never lost hope,

Because I chose to belong,

To the great family,

Of Hippocrates,

And William Osler,

The father of prognosis,

I wonder whether I needed all these data,

To be able to maneuver the scalpel,

In a soul that craved for a second chance,

And you told me,

Medical school was not meant to be easy,

And you smiled,

And rolled your eyes with admiration,

And asked me whether I had more questions,

I said no,

For your presence alone,

Was in itself a lesson,

A lesson that no pain no gain,

And that is my professor,

The professor of my freshman self,