Wish to put things to rest

I asked d’ knife, 
what happened!

pat came a reply,

it feels shaky to cut open

If knife‘s reluctant to cut open

how shall I become a surgeon?

Umbrella gone underground,

revealed, its afraid of rain

who will dare to save me

from torrential showers then?

Torch hesitant to face darkness

whom to say, my helplessness?

Abdomen opened, power gone

appendix hides behind caecum

Where do I stand, 
if  during surgery
gall bladder is torn
Escaped stone plays

 peek-a-boo game

in pouches of peritoneum

Pull in, denied by retractors

guts not kept away,

mop packs disobey orders

Needles unwilling to puncture,

to penetrate and pass through

tough tissue structure

How do I suture?

proximate cut edges together

Hydrogen peroxide refuses

to jump in to d’ ulcer,

no wish to kill anaerobes

by nascent oxygen cover

Foam behaves lazy

to initiate granulation

Mg SO₄ disinclined

for slough separation

How do I work,

in such awkward situation?

I’ll work, evidently work

and make each one work,

what so ever

No one allowed a cool nap

with a quilt cover

I’ll ignite passion, create zeal

Umpteen umbrellas to appear,

if clouds float over d’ hill

Thousand pullovers out,

prepared to protect

from biting chill of winter,

never ever hesitate

Knives to fall in line,

queue up in attention

battle ready

in instrument trolley,

to face

any untoward situation

Sutures stuck to needle end

cause no trauma, 
go hand in hand

to pierce, stitch together

tissue of any texture

Now Betadine peroxide lotion

ever ready for any mission

to clean d’ wound well

may be filthy, smelling like hell

All friendly items,

now act prompt,

help me become a surgeon

moved by my bounty zeal,  

create no rebellion
Absolutely no unrest

so won't point a finger,
  wish to put things to rest