By Sindhuja Earagolla

More than a 1000 pages

5000 cards; 7 books.

Memorized all the stages, 

Still one experience is all it took.

I had walked in prepared,

My finest scrubs tucked in neat.

I walked in but was scared,

My heart skipped a beat. 

The first patient walked in – a burka all black. 

The first patient looked lost with fear in her eyes. 

The first patient pulled out notes of a torn beige sack. 

The first patient looked up and then started to cry. 

The words on the notes were messy and misspelled. 

The ‘d’s switched for ‘b’s, 

I found the author – a young child who she held. 

Looking up with familiar tears — “Help Please”

I took the note from her and read

“No Inglis..Pashto only”

She was my patient; I couldn’t comprehend 

I was helpless and she was lonely. 

My first patient was worried. 

They said we can’t help. 

My first patient’s care was hurried. 

I can’t imagine what she felt. 

My first patient was still trying to say something. 

And as I stood there

I did nothing.