Poetry

can you tell i'm avirgo, the last immortalto abandon the earth,kept by some goldencomplex that held herhands outstretched fromten paces back? shewhispers "beloved"to every grain of sand,to each crest and tidalwant—in other words—to no one in particular:her pacing on the beach,waves lapping againstthe shore, the sun movingon to more...

today, i stumbled on an arteryit was green (can arteries be green?)and as 155 others nodded and understoodi thought maybe you were right about it all18 and telling me i was making a mistakehallowed halls are no place for a child19 and i’m crumbling beneath carrara columns20 and 3 digits...

If there is something thatI dream, it is this: ----------------A bodywaxed until the flesh flieslike apples smashed bybaseball bats. ------------A bodydissolved into a bruisedpelvis collecting blood. ------------A bodyskinned until it disappearsinto a body in reverse. ------------A body dissected and chiseledinto a hollow vase.  ------------A bodywhich on nights likethese reminds meof how even watercould burn an...

Disclaimer: This poem represents my own personal reflections as I initially navigated the tensions and forces of medical education and sought to process them. In no way does it represent a criticism of the faculty or students of Perelman, whom I truly love and appreciate more than I can...

Hi I’m Lacey, medical student,student doctor?Just Lacey. Can I ask you some questions before the doctor comes in?I ask some questions. The doctor comes in.Does she have nausea?I didn’t ask that.Does she have headaches?I didn’t ask that.Does she have chest pain?I didn’t ask that, I didn’t ask that,I didn’t ask that. Hi I’m Lacey, the...

Enter me from stage right into a system of healing and trauma.At twenty-two, what did I know of this world,having been sheltered within four suburban walls and housed in a bodywhose conventional spinning cogs allowed for esteemedProductivity.  Fragile me.During those first years when I was told that I was should be a...

800 people died in New York today,but I soaked beans for chili and watered my plants.Looked at my handsthat are two years too early to help(or maybe I’m just too scared)and put on tea to boilfor the third time today. My white coat is stuffed in my backpack,pockets still with...

Standing in my living room I could seeEvery marbled detail on the open expanseWhere usually a crowd would beSave for the deadly circumstance At the far end of St. Peter’s church, stands a man in white, the popeWhat look he gives the wooden cross! What once gave death, but now gives hope This...

My back is on fire whenever I move, she said the words condensing as they passed through her icy lips. Hydromorphone, doctor said.

My first question to her was, “How has COVID-19 affected your experience as a doula?” Her response, after a brief pause and a deep breath, was: “An adjustment.”

These pieces were written by members of the Spring 2020 Narrative Medicine course, taught by Dr. Jeffrey Milstein.

Stand tall, Shoulders back, Nerves flat, Never fall.  Head high, Speech clear, No fear,Just try.  But it would be nice to sit,To slump,To limp,And fall into despair’s deep pit.  Oh how good it would feel to cry!And water feelings with my tearsFlooding anxiety to wash away the daunting fears.But the embarrassment of...

The regrets locking him in  Trapping him in the past The burden sitting on his shoulders Too heavy for him to carry Pushing him to the ground His tears rushing down Forming a violent ocean Waves drowning him Swallowing him whole Never ending pain that lingers in his heart A collection of memories with Wounds that can’t be healed The ambition...

Feels like a dream but I just made it to 17 Got ice cream cake; chocolate and vanilla cream The people in my life are black, white and in between Yea I got culture in my genes bustin thru the seams My RNA comes from close and faraway Where my ancestors came from it’s...

The tide washes, neverending, over rocky shores.  The sun rises without fail.  And again and again, the salmon knows  to swim against the current of fast flowing streams.  The effort to swim must be maddening,  So inconvenient that evolution has happened this way,  So senseless that they must struggle,  Red scales in blue water.  Or maybe, it...

How can I save a life / When that life is the structure that itself gives and takes life? / How can I give a patient back their breath / When the patient has been gasping for thousands of years / And I am just one small pair of lungs?

Every so often, you feel a wave of hope.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, a cry to my people.”

My mother, a poet and surgeon, used to run a mile outside every day. She was a self-declared member of the by-your-own-honor club, whose only dictate was that every member must—you guessed it—run at least one mile outside, every day. For six years, come rain or shine, sleet or...

Each day we enter this dried River Styx, death's water taken to air on colorless wings.

When will I get better?

Equitable provision of clean water is the most basic public health service: without it, individuals are at risk for infection from ingesting unsafe water and the lack of personal hygiene. Therefore, governments that allocate water based on factors such as socioeconomic status directly hinder the health of their citizens.