New Way
There’s so much more to do, / there’s so much more to say, / I just hope we can change / and create a new way.
There’s so much more to do, / there’s so much more to say, / I just hope we can change / and create a new way.
Am I essential? / A med student waiting for change, / inundated with facts and figures. / Am I just in the way?
I agree that protesting is best done in peace, / But wasn’t that tried by taking a knee? / Or hashtags that said Black Lives Matter, / And praying that change would come with the chatter.
I stand for justice and peace; / I stand for equity alongside equality. / I stand until the hate crimes cease.
Tonight, there are families who will go to bed / Without having eaten dinner. They will slip / Through sheets of faded blue, stained with
“I still feel the same,” she says / after three weeks of ECT. / Monday / Wednesday / Friday —
“Could you please hand Eric the needle driver?” As the scrub tech loaded up that blessed golden tool, I knew that I had just ascended within the realm of surgery.
We’re now all online / but you’re still in person. / As things progress / they just seem to worsen.
Pressed for time, the report shall be quick to conclude: For eight minutes and forty-six seconds, Mr. Floyd could not breathe with a knee on his neck, and thus met his untimely, unconscionable death.
She came alone / Messy auburn hair with curls flowing / Tiny and silent / Taking up a third of the bed
The world is quarantined, but we have learned to be human again. Rather than tirelessly working or studying, we are forced to engage with one another in meaningful ways. We find novel alternatives to maintain relationships with those who mean the most to us during this daunting time with no foreseeable end.
A rainy day while the sun is out is a bad omen. But every day seems like a bad omen now. I stand by the window at times watching the strange weather passing through. If you look at the right moment, you will see me there with a face that mirrors the solemness of what I look at.