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Reflections of a working writer and reader

 

 

The Good Doctor

The Good Doctor

When at last you got the news
That took you over the cliff edge
Into the black crevasse of all that’s feared –
Loss of children, future, the ordinary rich pleasures
Of this difficult life, and your spirits sank
In the cold currents of a black lake.

Then came the good doctor
Whose calm can settle a ward
As when a harsh wind drops
Or evening sun breaks through.
His careful explanations settled you.
No ego flaunts itself, no phoney cheeriness,
Just sense and human kindness
And time in a driven life
To lean on windowsills and chat.
On his instructions treatment changes,
The right drugs given, a weekend out
To breath the air on Hampstead Heath
To see the leaves and foolish dogs
And rediscover all the other things you are
Besides a woman who is going to die
Before she thought.
All this the good doctor brings
And his mysterious inward smile
Expressing more than understanding.

A poem by Angela Fisher
(22 May 1943 – 23rd January 2011)

One Response to “The Good Doctor”

  1. Thomas Baker says:

    She seems to offer some hope, like fresh air in the city center. But where does she draw such images of strength from? Was she in her right mind?