A DOUBTING THOMAS, MD

On an early Christmas morn,
in a west Manhattan hospital,
 
there arrives by ambulance,
homeless bum in quiet a delusional state
of mind,
 
he claims to be the Prince of Peace,
the alpha and the mega, true,
the son of a living god, once known
around these parts as Christianity,
 
in these difficult days and nights,
most folks today refer to that faith as a con job,
short men selling miracles for coin and coppage,
please wipe your feet at the church door,
and don't dare come in here without a coat
and tie,
no people of the hurt, welcome.
 
This mystery man is skinny,
wasted away perhaps to under one hundred pounds,
welts on his back for a severe beating,
probably at the hands of the New York City Police Department
during the latest political convention for King George
and his Empire,
 
I don't know, right now I am concerned about his
mental status, stat,
I order a Thorazine and Haldol cocktail,
a little dextrose to perk up his brain sugar,
and an EKG to check on his broken heart,
 
then I'll wait for his agitation and perverted
job description to calm down,
then I'll finish the rest of my physical examination,
 
but this place is really hoping tonight,
and all our trauma beds are full,
they are backed up into the halls,
 
blooded, blue, and bruised, I can tell this
latest Messiah that whoever runs this universe,
that
he's done a very bad job of triage,
for this ER is full of the suffering and the damed,
for America cares nothing sometimes for
the poor, sick, and confused,
 
I haven't seen a good miracle in over a year
or so, and even that is stretching things a bit.
 
Taking a look, finally, at Jesus in Bed Number
One, I must say that this beaten prophet has
some interesting stretch and wound marks,
 
both his wrists are broken, like some street gangs
has poked nails through the dead center spot of muscle
and nerves,
 
His liver has been lacerated, his lungs full of fluid,
his heart rate is fast and weak, his respirations have now slowed,
 
there are cut marks about his head, like he had attempted to
escape capture through a Central Park rose garden,
 
by the time I finish my examination,
he is dead,
 
Without hesitation, I command my intern
to call the Organ Donor team, this man is indigent and has
no family, maybe his life will be good for something,
 
then I stop my pronouncement on this man's life,
for I have not lived it, for in a instant of have an
 
offering of supernatural revelation,
that perhaps this dying fella last wish,
 
was to be here and now,
to offer up his body, that others might live,
 
that at the very least of these,
he taught me,
 
that some struggle against all hope,
to make Christmas meaningful,
 
once again,
 
and remind me the greatest truth of all,
that his will, not mine
be done.
 
Signed, A Doubting Thomas, MD
            The Hospital Of Last Resort
            New York, New York