The Embodiment of Care Nasser Al-Khawaja Poetry
I’m frightened; is it too late for my heart? Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to consider a bit of art Being walled in by white armors may be a comforting start, Until you’re the target that’s being stung with a dart Don’t they know that communication can hit the bullseye? Because all that patients need are truthful allies Nourish me with certainty, don’t ever lie Doctor, deep down, I’m still a butterfly Have I seen better days? Either way, that’s no reason to have no faith If only they could pierce the perplexing haze, The key to my heart would be found with just one gaze
108
Ascensus
