Reviewing has been the perpetual answer.
To the unclear inquisition
that befalls the people
I have not seen
or spoken to for some time.
But there’s a progress
to the studies
which have accompanied
my mind to see beyond even me.

Thorough repetition
of factual information
in a mundane fashion.
The passion for acquiring
the necessary knowledge
has found it’s self
incorporated
in the daily conversation.

In the morning
a discrete young woman
fashioned with a “salmon”
bandana, leaving the cafe
with green tea in hand.
Followed by the waddling
footing of a child holding
a mother’s hand.
In passing, an adult
repetitively cursing
on the undertones
of their words.

The following day
a man in a tailored suit
talking to himself
with an ear-piece
unseen to some.
A young man
holding his father’s hand
hauling an oxygen
tank behind him.
A young lady with
white complexion,
studying. As she faces
my way her cheeks appear
with patching tones of black.

Reminded daily,
I return to these books,
the flow charts of
pathologies and treatments.

Humbled,
that the view and discourse
of our conditions
are not all the same.