Art by Mimi Kim, MS4
on morning roundshe arriveslike a postmanin the rainhe hasgood newsor bad newsbut alwaysfast newsfor patients,because the Pony Expressis for speed
his paper hatis crookedand he flashesglances atthe sickdispassionatelyas ifthey — the onesfor whom hebrings hismessages —weigh his packwith stones
because in
the operating roomwithrind of tumorandjuice of gallbladderand...
at the edge of the cliff, there aresix great problems that plague manthe second and most biting of whichis the exposure that forced him fromhis third problem, hunger, that in this setthe fourth fifth and sixth are trite in comparison.collapsing this, of course, the first and only problem is loneliness.all...
Art by Adina Singer, MS4
Blood dripping from their veins like serumof truth. Ethylenediaminetetraacetic acidchelates the metals of the earth that take residencein their bodies, the evolutionary balance that nature solvedto give life and order to a collection of elements.Science tries to keep up with Her in a race with...
I’m walking home after the gym:Red light. Blue light. The Doppler effect.
I’m walking to school in the morning:Red light. Blue light. The Doppler effect.
I’m discussing Discoid Lupus with my classmates:Red light. Blue light. The Doppler effect.
I’m talking to my family on the phone.Red light. Blue light. The Doppler effect.
I’m...
Art by Phoebe Cunningham, MS4
I saw a small opening between The pines, oaks, and sugar maplesAnd decided to leave the hiking trail, Entering a humid and lush forest. The air was heavy and suffocating, But the breeze was a sweet embrace;I walked deeper into the foliage, Where the birds sang an ephemeral melody. The crushing...
Art by Sayalee Patankar, MS1
I was 13You were 6 and 4And I knew which of you was coming from the sound of your footsteps on the stairs.
At dinner with dad’s friends onceSomeone confused me for momBecause I was the one cajoling you to eat and wiping your tears.
Now I am 23 You...
You are opening the chart of John Smithwho is deceased – time of deathAll too suddenYou were alive, sick, but aliveJust a week ago, before yourheart and lung sounds were absentbefore your neck and chest were swolleninflamed by a hope turned necrotic
Only three days ago did your body truly...
To you, who gave all—a gift beyond measure,You’ve entrusted us with a part of your being,Your body, your life—woven into the fabric of time.
We know not who you were in life, But your gift speaks louder than words could ever say.You gave us the chance to touch the heart, To see...
You had end stage ovarian cancer.
Your surgery was a success, they told you
So why could you not get out of bed?
Your blood pressure would drop
Your body would go weak, drained of life
You just wanted to go home.
You asked us to take you outside, so we did.
Your face lit up...
The porch-front gardens are my favorite.Bright tulips, cotton-candy hydrangeas, the smell of fig trees.I wander in wonder amid the fresh air.Each season offers a new bounty of beauty.
Block parties are a common sight.We’ll close the street with banners, cones, haphazardly parked cars.There’ll be burgers, conversation, and carefree kids.“Come on...
Inhaled breaths, a fragile thread,Air, once abundant, now hangs by a thread.A tightrope walk on a silent lineWhere every gasp feels like a steep climb.
Every day feels like it has a slow pace,Yet shadows loom in this quiet space.Each breath a struggle, a weight they must bearAs lungs tighten...
On the days I will see a dead body, I cover my mirrors with silk scarves.
The mirrors lie to me; they tell me that I have a body with scars and organs and smells.
The mirrors tell me that I am him.
I am not him. I am not a body.
I...
“Being human always points to and is directed to, something or someone other than oneself. The more one forgets himself, the more human he is and actualizes himself.” - Victor Frankl
Humans mourn the lost day and toil for the next,
Yet the present slips by, quiet as breath, unseen,
Only visible...
Whoosh whoosh whoosh“Feel it?”Put the back of your hand over itHold it thereYou’ll feel itThe thrill.Whoosh whoosh whooshMy knuckles grazed the skin of his armTattooed, darker than mineThey hovered, hesitatingWhoosh whoosh whooshUnderneath my handI felt the thrill.Twenty-sixHe heard the thrillHe was twenty-sixWhoosh whoosh whooshHis heart in his earsLoudEyes down...
Background: I wrote this poem after hearing that a patient on my vascular surgery rotation that I had rounded on for a few days had passed. As I reflected on this, an almost idiotically simple refrain kept repeating in my head, and this poem naturally sprung from it later...
One of those early spring days,basking in the new heat,we held each other.Blissfully unaware,our last moments as lovers.
You shimmered in the light,radiant and joyful.How I wish that could have lasted forever.
But later that night,in darkness,we decided to say goodbye.You cried in bed next to me saying no one had...
In the land of liberty, where freedom we hold dearWe need to build a society where our children live without fear
Gun violence permeates our streetsA haunting rhythm the nation greets
School hallways echo with footsteps of despairWhere innocence collides with a total nightmare
In the silence meant for pencils and booksA...
Dickinson describes a visceral imagery that represents hope in her poem “Hope is the thing with feathers”.Thinking is inherently metaphorical and what comes to my mind is:Hope is something deep within us that braves the toughest conditions.It's a weak flame that persists and flickers against a harsh wind.It will...
Our story began at Normandy Farms.We met after a Stop the Bleed simulation and sat in a circle,And through the crazy spaghetti tower building, faces became friends.Hours became weeks; team-based small groups became team exams.Through it all, I am grateful to you all.
Self-reflection ran rampant as we practiced taking...
I’m in a big city now
where I can’t see the stars
but I think I found God again.
He is cell on slide, probe on skin,
hand on shoulder, hand over heart.
He is crinkle of smile, snap of glove,
fine point of scalpel, whisper of His name.
He is sweat-soaked scrubs tossed in hamper,
rain-soaked...
they say you can’t hurt a patient with the ultrasound probe but that’s not true.
i still have bruises along my ribs, tender, faintest blue.
almost no one found my heart in the subcostal view.
maybe a couple did but i don’t remember who.
but there were a few who touched me gently,...
death arrivestomorrowfor youwhose voice stillsounds likespring
Do you remember
The day you metat her Sweet SixteenThe spice rackshe bought for yourfirst apartment inBrooklynYour three childrenjust starting tobecome The coffee you sharedevery morningwaiting for the worldto riseHer voice is the only one you canhearwithout an aidsixty five years later
Physician-assisteddeath arrivestomorrowfor youwho decorated my childhoodwith elephantfigurines
We are...
sunday two-in-the-afternoon eating strawberries
asking about god with cursory curiosity
like he's a new boyfriend
like he's an unproven lover
how do you know him? what's he like?
your eyes all soft and serious in the reply
you tell me but i'm not listening,
you tell me all
the high mysteries
spilling from your lips...
A young man from Los AngelesShops with his boyfriend forThe first winter coatHe will ever ownThey kiss underAutumnal sycamoresAblaze withBecomingAnd he finallyStops running
A mother lifts her baby girlFrom a hospital bedAs Pachelbel’s Canon in DFills the roomThey danceWith the insistent beautyOf wildflowersBloomingThrough concrete
Two friends walkArm in armThrough the December...
You look up at meFrom under the coversAnd you smile, sweetlyWith a strength and a sadnessThat is beyond my yearsBorne through trialThrough suffering and heartacheAnd yet, there it isShining in your eyes
It’s not a tagline,nor a cheap ployThe spark of life I seeIs pure and freeFrom fear and from...