The Surgeon’s Son: A Story of Blood

It’s a staggering responsibility
to operate, to crack a bone

and extract marrow,
essential to blood and life,

to take a broken body,
breaking it more to mend it

I always thought it my destiny
as if it were in my blood,

to struggle with addiction,
that fear I buried so deep

even I barely knew it was there,
repeating my father’s mistake,

that same cycle of sorrows,
and then joys from healing

But here I am on the third story
of the hospital long past dusk,

and my wife, my life-mate,
is at home with our daughter

telling her bedtime stories,
singing her songs and lullabies

/ / /

This poem was written in response to Wordle 51 at The Sunday Whirl.

10 thoughts on “The Surgeon’s Son: A Story of Blood

  1. Well, it seems like the surgeon’s son has beat the family curse of addiction; and I love the ending where he reflects on his wife and child at home. You found a way to use these unusual words to write a poem that came to a positive conclusion. I found it impossible to do that. Interesting to see where the words take each of us.


  2. Goodness. So much to love here. That first sentence drew me in, then the sound and visceral visual of “crack a bone/and extract marrow”…the beauty and sadness in “that same cycle of sorrows.” Just gorgeous. And the words are in there so seamlessly.


  3. Not sure if I left a comment…I had a visitor…
    I enjoyed this piece. Somehow it reminded me of Sherlock Holmes and Watson. Though you dedicated doctor has a family that I hope he makes time for! Nicely wordled.


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