Off the Shelf, Poetry Thursdays
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Little girl

in the pink hospital gown

sits in a windowless room.

She knows no one,

cries for her mother,

shakes her head,

blonde curls strewn across her face.

She waves her arms erratically

as if she is trying to fight.

 

Or maybe fly.

 

Her four-year-old body

looks like a small animal,

too little,

too young,

to battle against mightier forces.

 

Suddenly,

arms are wrapped around her.

She is pulled towards the bed.

The small animal whimpers

as the mask is put over her mouth.

 

Then,

she stops moving.

Whole body frozen

except for the rise and fall of her chest

mimicking the flap of a baby bird’s wings.

A strap is thrown across her body

then tightened at the edges of the bed.

Adults

three times her size

crowd over her still body

cover her with blankets

exposing only a sliver of her left thigh.

They make the first incision.

 

As the surgery continued

and she remained sleeping,

I wondered where her dreams took her.

I hope she’s somewhere in open air.

Hope she’s among the clouds.

Hope she’s able to use her wings,

and the gases going in and out of her body

become nothing more than the wind underneath.

 

I hope she ends up feeling

free.

 


Poetry Thursdays is a weekly newsletter that highlights poems by medical students and physicians. This initiative is led by Slavena Salve Nissan at Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. If you are interested in contributing, please contact Slavena.


 

Candice Mazon Candice Mazon (2 Posts)

Contributing Writer

Drexel University College of Medicine


Candice is a student of Drexel University College of Medicine Class of 2019. Her passions lie in writing poetry, discussing racial and gender inequities, learning calligraphy, and living vicariously through TV shows. She hopes to one day work within the realm of reproductive justice and write 100 poems before graduating medical school.