The Calling

This noonday, he reclines on the sofa
Recalls, clear as crystal, the journey just begun
His faith unwavering; his passion unshaken
A bright-eyed student drawn to surgery’s practice
To learn and to serve; to seek and to discover
Papa told him, “Son, you were born to sew. I see it in your eyes.”

This noonday, he ponders other options
Resolute, despite the pain and weight of his sinews
His joy is boundless; it’s a journey not a race
A son of the scalpel with a healer’s touch
To probe and to handle; to change and to restore
Nana told him, “Trudge along. These are life’s vicissitudes.”

This noonday, he witnesses a success
Unwanted mass removed, years granted to that boy
His mind revels; things that fella will learn and see
A newbie set to improve humanity
To be stoic and brave; to surmount and overcome
Dr. L told him, “Don’t be afraid. There’s no limit to your imagination.”

This fine day his zeal cannot be mistaken
Knowing full well the unforgiving nature of his craft
His hand is steady; His mind at peace
A boy from distant shores devouring the teachings of Sabiston
To hold the torch and to blaze the trail
His inner voice tells him, “Brother, this is your calling.”