Life.
A seedling, a baby — / the most vulnerable state. / Roots, placenta ground into mother — / wholly dependent on a magnificent caretaker.
Tag: prose
Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Samantha is a fourth-year medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in Miami, Florida class of 2022. In 2016, she graduated from Florida International University with a Bachelor of Science in Biology. She enjoys yoga, going to the beach, and reading in her free time. After graduating medical school, Samantha plans to pursue a career in Pediatrics.
Catching Threads at the End of Preclinical
I hope my classmates, communities, and I all dance far more often with health than sickness. I pray that soon the last hospital bed holds the last patient with COVID. I hope justice and truth prevail. I hope we hold onto what we carry: the love of friends and family, a resilience tried and true, bravery unbridled and faith that we will persevere among the challenges life affords. I hope that after long days of caring for others, we care for ourselves and call a friend, a loved one, a therapist — and remember how far we’ve come. We have been patients, and we will be patients, even as we care for patients.
Ms. Metaphysics
I am sitting in school / but I am also thinking of you. / Yes, I do / wonder how consciousness / wraps round and round / this hunk of meat, / how chunks of flesh / sustain your metaphysical feat.
Weather This Weather
if we can just cling / and weather this weather, / we can make some things / much better and better.
A Blue-Lit Room
In a hospital room lit blue / By the rays entering in from the clouded sun
An Ode to Paul Hoover
Secret / The caterpillar munching on hair / beneath your scrub cap
2020
Some days, I only feel disillusion of the soul / that yearns for bear hugs, game nights, Nana’s pecan pie.
‘Twas the Block Before Step
‘Twas the block before Step, and all through the school / not a student was stirring — no one was a fool
Centimeters
The clock strikes midnight and just like that, / she’s been laboring for 10 hours as expected, / time flies when you can’t feel contraction pain.
A Nation on My Shoulders
Failure was never an option for me. // Every time I fail… / I am reminded that I have let my country down.
The Broken Ones
Send us the broken, the battered, / “give me your tired, your poor,” / your torn and tattered.
To Be a Kid
Just a five-year-old kid / Yet always in and out of the hospital, / Since her first beautiful breath / Through each breath after, / With her life-giving / Yet ever-faltering lungs.
Contributing Writer
Boston University School of Medicine
Chandni Jain (she/her/hers) is a fourth-year medical student at Boston University School of Medicine in Boston, MA, Class of 2021. In 2015, she graduated from the University of California, Berkeley with a Bachelor of Arts in molecular and cell biology and a minor in global poverty and practice, after completing an internship at the Family Planning Institute of India working on reproductive health education and access as a means to address poverty. She then worked for two years as the Northwest Region Community Engagement Fellow at UNICEF USA to advocate for the world's most vulnerable children. She enjoys dancing, painting, yoga, and vegan cooking in her free time.
After graduating from medical school, Chandni would like to pursue a career in pediatrics and looks forward to working with underserved communities. Her passions include adolescent and reproductive health, social/racial and health equity, universal healthcare, and environmentalism.