Background: I wrote this poem after hearing that a patient on my vascular surgery rotation that I had rounded on for a few days had passed. As I reflected on this, an almost idiotically simple refrain kept repeating in my head, and this poem naturally sprung from it later...
One of those early spring days,basking in the new heat,we held each other.Blissfully unaware,our last moments as lovers.
You shimmered in the light,radiant and joyful.How I wish that could have lasted forever.
But later that night,in darkness,we decided to say goodbye.You cried in bed next to me saying no one had...
In the land of liberty, where freedom we hold dearWe need to build a society where our children live without fear
Gun violence permeates our streetsA haunting rhythm the nation greets
School hallways echo with footsteps of despairWhere innocence collides with a total nightmare
In the silence meant for pencils and booksA...
Dickinson describes a visceral imagery that represents hope in her poem “Hope is the thing with feathers”.Thinking is inherently metaphorical and what comes to my mind is:Hope is something deep within us that braves the toughest conditions.It's a weak flame that persists and flickers against a harsh wind.It will...
Our story began at Normandy Farms.We met after a Stop the Bleed simulation and sat in a circle,And through the crazy spaghetti tower building, faces became friends.Hours became weeks; team-based small groups became team exams.Through it all, I am grateful to you all.
Self-reflection ran rampant as we practiced taking...
I’m in a big city now
where I can’t see the stars
but I think I found God again.
He is cell on slide, probe on skin,
hand on shoulder, hand over heart.
He is crinkle of smile, snap of glove,
fine point of scalpel, whisper of His name.
He is sweat-soaked scrubs tossed in hamper,
rain-soaked...
they say you can’t hurt a patient with the ultrasound probe but that’s not true.
i still have bruises along my ribs, tender, faintest blue.
almost no one found my heart in the subcostal view.
maybe a couple did but i don’t remember who.
but there were a few who touched me gently,...
death arrivestomorrowfor youwhose voice stillsounds likespring
Do you remember
The day you metat her Sweet SixteenThe spice rackshe bought for yourfirst apartment inBrooklynYour three childrenjust starting tobecome The coffee you sharedevery morningwaiting for the worldto riseHer voice is the only one you canhearwithout an aidsixty five years later
Physician-assisteddeath arrivestomorrowfor youwho decorated my childhoodwith elephantfigurines
We are...
sunday two-in-the-afternoon eating strawberries
asking about god with cursory curiosity
like he's a new boyfriend
like he's an unproven lover
how do you know him? what's he like?
your eyes all soft and serious in the reply
you tell me but i'm not listening,
you tell me all
the high mysteries
spilling from your lips...
A young man from Los AngelesShops with his boyfriend forThe first winter coatHe will ever ownThey kiss underAutumnal sycamoresAblaze withBecomingAnd he finallyStops running
A mother lifts her baby girlFrom a hospital bedAs Pachelbel’s Canon in DFills the roomThey danceWith the insistent beautyOf wildflowersBloomingThrough concrete
Two friends walkArm in armThrough the December...
You look up at meFrom under the coversAnd you smile, sweetlyWith a strength and a sadnessThat is beyond my yearsBorne through trialThrough suffering and heartacheAnd yet, there it isShining in your eyes
It’s not a tagline,nor a cheap ployThe spark of life I seeIs pure and freeFrom fear and from...
can you tell i'm avirgo, the last immortalto abandon the earth,kept by some goldencomplex that held herhands outstretched fromten paces back? shewhispers "beloved"to every grain of sand,to each crest and tidalwant—in other words—to no one in particular:her pacing on the beach,waves lapping againstthe shore, the sun movingon to more...
today, i stumbled on an arteryit was green (can arteries be green?)and as 155 others nodded and understoodi thought maybe you were right
about it all18 and telling me i was making a mistakehallowed halls are no place for a child19 and i’m crumbling beneath carrara columns20 and 3 digits...
If there is something thatI dream, it is this:
----------------A bodywaxed until the flesh flieslike apples smashed bybaseball bats.
------------A bodydissolved into a bruisedpelvis collecting blood.
------------A bodyskinned until it disappearsinto a body in reverse.
------------A body dissected and chiseledinto a hollow vase.
------------A bodywhich on nights likethese reminds meof how even watercould burn an...
Disclaimer: This poem represents my own personal reflections as I initially navigated the tensions and forces of medical education and sought to process them. In no way does it represent a criticism of the faculty or students of Perelman, whom I truly love and appreciate more than I can...
Hi I’m Lacey, medical student,student doctor?Just Lacey. Can I ask you some questions before the doctor comes in?I ask some questions. The doctor comes in.Does she have nausea?I didn’t ask that.Does she have headaches?I didn’t ask that.Does she have chest pain?I didn’t ask that, I didn’t ask that,I didn’t ask that.
Hi I’m Lacey, the...
Enter me from stage right into a system of healing and trauma.At twenty-two, what did I know of this world,having been sheltered within four suburban walls and housed in a bodywhose conventional spinning cogs allowed for esteemedProductivity.
Fragile me.During those first years when I was told that I was should be a...
800 people died in New York today,but I soaked beans for chili and watered my plants.Looked at my handsthat are two years too early to help(or maybe I’m just too scared)and put on tea to boilfor the third time today.
My white coat is stuffed in my backpack,pockets still with...
Standing in my living room I could seeEvery marbled detail on the open expanseWhere usually a crowd would beSave for the deadly circumstance
At the far end of St. Peter’s church, stands a man in white, the popeWhat look he gives the wooden cross! What once gave death, but now gives hope
This...
My first question to her was, “How has COVID-19 affected your experience as a doula?” Her response, after a brief pause and a deep breath, was: “An adjustment.”
Stand tall, Shoulders back, Nerves flat, Never fall.
Head high, Speech clear, No fear,Just try.
But it would be nice to sit,To slump,To limp,And fall into despair’s deep pit.
Oh how good it would feel to cry!And water feelings with my tearsFlooding anxiety to wash away the daunting fears.But the embarrassment of...
The regrets locking him in
Trapping him in the past
The burden sitting on his shoulders
Too heavy for him to carry
Pushing him to the ground
His tears rushing down
Forming a violent ocean
Waves drowning him
Swallowing him whole
Never ending pain that lingers in his heart
A collection of memories with
Wounds that can’t be healed
The ambition...
Feels like a dream but I just made it to 17
Got ice cream cake; chocolate and vanilla cream
The people in my life are black, white and in between
Yea I got culture in my genes bustin thru the seams
My RNA comes from close and faraway
Where my ancestors came from it’s...
The tide washes, neverending, over rocky shores.
The sun rises without fail.
And again and again, the salmon knows
to swim against the current of fast flowing streams.
The effort to swim must be maddening,
So inconvenient that evolution has happened this way,
So senseless that they must struggle,
Red scales in blue water.
Or maybe, it...
Dr. Amanda Swain is still a little surprised that she’s a physician. Born into a family of creatives in small town Long Island, Dr. Swain herself found a lifelong passion for creative pursuits at a young age. Her journey from a childhood steeped in writing and theater to a career as a medical educator at Penn is unconventional, but Dr. Swain’s unique background has also granted her extraordinary vision. A champion for medical humanities, she is working to bring about changes in the culture of medicine towards increased compassion, greater interprofessional synergy, and deeper personal fulfillment.