The clock behind me ticks

As the seconds line up with the cicadas’ hiss,

I hear the children outside, and the cracks of sticks

 

My high school self speaks: “You should be at bliss!”

My classmates say, “Research secured!”

My loved ones far and near, those which I miss

 

Assignments procured

Like an avalanche, smothering the land

Of knowledge that has matured

 

The buzz of my phone, perhaps a lending hand?

No, just a friend who says, “only fifty more cards to go”

An arrogant boast, seemingly planned

 

I try to hunker down, but I know I’m slow

There must be another way, I think

Looking ahead at the weeks below

 

Now the leak begins, it starts with my sink

A merciless reminder — the clocks, the sticks, the phone, the water

And now, synchronous with it all, my blink

 

Back in undergrad I think, at my alma mater

These feelings existed, although at a different level

In med school how is everyone so ahead, must they all be plotters?

 

Forty-eight more hours, till I can revel

Before it starts again

The whispers of the devil

 

Telling me, “so when?”

Will I have my life together

The stress compounding, just wait … but then

 

I get a call from my mother, my tether

She tells me she’s proud

The words falling, like a feather

 

I think about my patients, my mind now in the clouds

And the good I’ll do

I think to myself: now speaking out loud

 

I am enough, as I start to review

I will go at my own pace

Persevere, push through

 

Because this is a journey, no, not a race

And it’s up to me

To finish strong, with grace.

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Poetry Thursdays is an initiative that highlights poems by medical students. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.

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