Bleary-eyed,
Surgical cap awry,
I follow in a single file line.
It’s nearly 9 PM.
I wonder:
How do these giants still walk with urgency,
determination,
purpose?
How do they still smile at worried families
with crinkles at the corner of their eyes?
I think
About deft fingers and strong arms,
As they stand for hours long
To care for women’s bodies with pain prolonged
Exhausted, I fade.
The blue hue of their scrubs
And the white of their coats
become a new shade.
A shade of power and beauty.
A new blue that sustains on or off-duty.
The lines blur and seemingly expand,
How was I present near people so grand?
Suddenly, I realize
That the giants in front of me
Are not a fantasy.
They are normal-sized people,
Giant in all they do
And speak and serve
From all that I observe
So how do I stand
On the shoulders of these giants?
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.
Contributing Writer
Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine
Jessica is a third year MD/PhD student at Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine in Rochester, MN class of 2028 (hopefully). In 2020, she graduated from Rice University with a Bachelor of Science in biochemistry and cell biology with a minor in medical humanities. She enjoys trying new recipes, working out with friends, and exploring the city one restaurant at a time in her free time. After graduating, Jessica would like to pursue a career as a physician-scientist at an academic center.
