new introduction / my name is… / and i’m a med student
Never grow old she says, / As the IV beeps and her SCDs hum. / Enjoy your youth she says, / As her body creaks and her fingers drum.
you almost died today. / you almost brought yourself back to life / knowing another heart, too, / makes warmth between your breasts.
His eyes beyond his glasses / dart from me / rest on the corners
This poem is about the real-life suffering of the peoples of Africa.
A sketch from fourth-year medical student Leor Arbel of the University of Central Florida.
Through the automated doors of the psych hospital, / the man walked / until he reached the front desk.
In the middle, he stood / Between darkness and good / Both selves beckoning him to a side / And in the fight, a small piece of him died
First year of medical school: / Don’t remember much. / MD/PhD students, you know what I mean. / Learned how to use a stethoscope.
they are / people first / more than just numbers and / statistics on a computer screen
“There must be a better way to make a living than this!” / Slam. / Silence, except for the persistent heartbeat. / The beat of the ticking time bomb, the dying heart.
This path has been far from cookie cutter, / From being kneaded and rolled / By demanding needs to fulfill multiple roles, / I can’t help but wonder, will I make the cut?