Medic

The first poem I've written where I mention God. A man realizes that he can do no more for a person and that they must seek help on their own.

"Medic"

He wheeled you in on a table-
I knew from the start I couldn’t do anything to help you.

I could try though, and try I did-
tried to get the shards of pain out of your body-
Soothe your burns, stitch your cuts

I know it won’t make a difference in the end, at this point-
like putting a bandage on a stump won’t bring back the arm.
There’s a person I know of, that can help you- further down the line
If you choose to go.

The path is not easy; in fact, it makes no sense to us.
But if things made sense to us- they wouldn’t be divine.
If I could understand what He does - I would be able to do it-
No - if the act itself defies understanding, how can one copy it?
It is beyond my ability, a fact of which I am not ashamed.

I consider myself a physician, in one sense of the word-
Playing a waiting game to buy you time-
Time to make up your mind.
All the time in the world, though, won’t avail you
Unless you choose to use it to seek Him
And heal both body and soul.

I can’t help the pain caused to your inner self,
Causing more harm to you then these superficial cuts and bruises-
I keep working, to keep you here, but I can’t work forever
There are others, now, ones that I might be able to save-
I can’t wait forever on you - even if I wanted to-
If you choose to stay with me- you keep yourself further from Him.
Please move on- realize! - I can do nothing more to help you.

Author's Note

If you start from the title, every stanza increases by a single line. If you notice the pattern, it goes 1 (the title), 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. After I saw the pattern, I wrote to it as well as I could - until I went to post it last night and noticed that I had miscounted the lines. It took me a little while to fix it, and... now all is well. :P