I have stood on both sides of the line– / The line between mother and medic; / The line between parent and practitioner.
time, / its lifespan ceases to exist / as the gold warmth of your hazel eyes surround me
I strode down hallways, winding ‘round to meet / A sailor old and take to him his meal. / A gentle bounce in every step on beat, / This home to many always builds my zeal.
A canvas / Of delicately oiled / Skin, stretched taut
Was it a fall? Did I miss the last step? These things I cannot recall / Hidden from sight, the blood crept from one lone vessel and began to compress / Nice to meet you, one medical student said, as he unzipped my sheath
after three years go by / you appear on two slides / in a lecture / on motor neuron disease
The eye dilated in the physician’s dark exam room, / While into it the eyes of new white coats loom, / From this eye I am learning
Little girl / in the pink hospital gown / sits in a windowless room.
“No, no, no,” I repeated, first silently and then as a whisper, as I frantically pushed the elevator button. The reliable elevator chime did not ring, and the button light would not stay on. “Great. Fantastic,” I sarcastically muttered.
Hepatic failure claimed him mentally, / And colored yellow both his eyes so wide / As too his being stained corporally.
The many tables corral him, / All the people surround him, / A trained doctor he is not, / Giving up, he hasn’t thought.
First, do no harm, but to harm not I must first see / With swift breath, I begin. / You, silent teacher, my new textbook