I almost became a surgeon
Or let me say, I loved the sight of blood
The beats from a working heart
The pinking kidney
The sudden rush that goes on in the ER
Not leaving out the seamless scalpel,
The fluid-thirsty suction,
The clamps and the very precise drills.
And here I am, still writing.
I admire the aura of peace gotten from war
The strategies and scheming to guard the borders,
To keep the peace and for the greater good
To create peace even while at war
To stay alive having tasted death
I almost became a soldier.
I almost became a barrister
Spurting the constitution like I authored it
Issuing subpoenas like pizza and burritos
Deciding if one was guilty or not
Valiantly defending someone whose genesis might be stained
Anticipating my adjourned dates like they were paydays
Tie on black, black on black
And here I am writing and focused
An engineer I would have been
Meddling with grease not just for its blackness
Tossing off screwed up gaskets
And unscrewing tyres that are fatigued and famished
And of course, just the enthralling feel of the engines
Oh! The engines!
The name alone bringing up spasms of bliss
Electrocuting my bones and giving brief shocks to my tendons
But as a writer I do the sum-up
I jostle between facts and assumptions
And give my admirers something to mesmerize on
Plots and themes, oxymorons and paradoxes
Sweet sensations hopping around joyfully
That ability to wrought miracles just from the ink that flows
Is all I live for, is all I want to be.
