There is no sound
like that of a heart breaking.
Even to naive ears,
it is immediately
recognizable.
The sudden, shrill cry
that starts
a crack in the heart
and ends
a chasm in the eyes.
Tears like magma
surge along that chasm,
searing everything in their wake.
Pain echoes
in the dense, swollen air.
The cry rips her throat to pieces,
chases out the life from her weary lungs.
She draws a raspy breath
and again
and again
and again
she pours out her agony:
the chasm widens.
28-year-old male, GSW.
Was he a son?
A nephew?
Another
bullet hole.
Another life stolen
too soon.
The cries diminish in volume
but not in strength;
molten pain flows quietly from her soul.
She will be taken to the family room:
an attempt in vain to contain her boundless sorrow.
Best to not disturb the others.
I move on with the rhythm of the day.
Another patient awaits.
Only for her
life will never be the same.
I went to school
to learn the sound of a heart
beating.
I did not expect to learn
the sound of a heart
breaking.
Poetry Thursdays is an initiative that highlights poems by medical students and physicians. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.
Contributing Writer
University of Rochester School of Medicine
Jennifer is a fourth year medical student at University of Rochester School of Medicine and Dentistry in Rochester, NY. She graduated from University of Washington with a Bachelor of Arts in anthropology and biochemistry. She enjoys hiking, writing, and traveling in her free time. After graduating medical school, Jennifer will pursue a career in emergency medicine.