Poetry Thursdays is our initiative to highlight poetry and prose by medical students, with a new post every Thursday. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.
Writers-in-Training Intern and Contributing Writer
Geisinger College of Health Sciences
Ceili Hamill is a medical student at Geisinger College of Health Sciences in Scranton, Pennsylvania, Class of 2025. In 2020, she graduated from Saint Joseph's University with a Bachelor of Science in biology. Ceili is also a student member of the Health Humanities Consortium and of the Academy for Professionalism in Health Care. She enjoys reading, baking, and playing with her pug Poppy in her free time. After graduating medical school, Ceili would like to pursue a career in pediatrics.
My patient sleeps peacefully. I wake him guiltily. I don’t want my face to be the first he sees. We love you, Pop-Pop, the whiteboard reads. No code, the chart reads. Later the neurology attending hurriedly packs his case reflex hammer flying. My wife went into labor He says. I’ve got to get going. I sit, in the empty conference room, feeling something a little like joy, a little like loss. The presentation about gait …
I am moving, yet I am going nowhere. I am going nowhere, yet I have come a long way. I do not count how many go by, but each spin demands that I keep moving. With every rotation, I take another step, another leap, one jump on this Earth. These cycles fly by, so much so that I can almost hear them as they whoosh over my head in an instant, making seconds go slow.
A bag full of dreams was all my mind possessed, / To leave my mark on the turbulent sands of time and be respected,
Finally, it’s been three months since // He and I were strangers with bad blood, / breathless in bed, / discussing the acts of giving and / receiving as indulgences, / mulling over our motivations and / the contraindications for / charity.
I start the day like most of us do: stimulating the needy vessels we call bodies with caffeine. As I open up my coffee jar to dispense ground Turkish coffee beans, I am met with a hint of loving bitterness. It carries a comforting brown sugar warmth that often stirs a sense of weakness given my inherent dependency on this substance but also commands secure boldness through notes of molasses and dark chocolate.
this weekend / I went to the sunflower patch / swinging arms with my mom and sister / starry eyed at the fields of bright gold yellow / nestled in the blue of the mountains around us.
In clinics bustling, time’s in demand, / We blend precision with a caring hand, / Not just cases or names on the roll call, / But, Patients’ stories, our familial call.
Sunshine, in the mornings, / spills. It / slips and slithers as it / tills.
Endless alarms, coffee to-go, Adidas tennis shoes toe to toe. / Password guesses, ID scans, room by room — endless lands.
Choice confounds a control / Whose jurisdiction knows no bounds
I wasn’t expecting the morning report. / I wasn’t expecting to see images, / The death, the blood, the open eyes, / the open hands grasping at someone / long gone. Bullets buried deep.
Bone Marrow Insufficiency / Bullies, Meds, Insomnia / Blatant Media Influence
Contributing Writer
Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine
Maia Young is a third year medical student at Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine, who is spellbound by the intimacy, mechanisms, and excitement within the field of anesthesiology. She envisions a career translating her medical skills to settings across resource spectra and national borders. In the meantime, she listens closely, shares generously, communicates creatively, and loves deeply.
