Poetry

"It is Christmas eve and our patient lies on the table in twilight sleep..."

A fourth-year medical student reflects on the non-traditional traditions that came from growing up in a 2-physician, 2-religion household.

"We wait, our bare feet dangling in the horse trough..."

"My work is loving the world..."

A psychiatrist shares memories of bonding over dance during the holiday season.

"Behind his couch, Freud senses summer’s return, draws a puff, flicks the ash, smiles as he studies his undying ember."

"Love is apart from all things. Desire and excitement are nothing beside it."

"For no particular reason I lift my dusty volume of Freud’s Standard Edition from a shelf..."

“Pottery is life. The finished product is just a reminder of the steps taken on the way.”

"Look out for me I’m a-coming too..."

"...her steady green eyes and naked display of farmgirl skill the chemistry that bonded us for life."

Poetic musings on posttraumatic growth...

Reflecting on the process of healing...

"I scribble as if my father is beside me years and years ago, scoring whole-notes, white holes through rims of night."

"In the silence I could feel the air slip in and out of his lungs and the moment when the motion reversed, like a goldfish making the turn at the glass end of its tank..."

A fourth-year medical student reflects on leaving medical and entering residency—and all the patients who impacted their life.

"I was a Jewish boy from the Jersey burbs raised on corned beef and Milano cookies. She was a Mennonite farmgirl whose father shot deer for dinner."

A psychiatrist reflects on the fears resulting from real life experiences...

"The sand stuck in an hourglass? Your brain is like stop it."

“Things change. People come and go. You quietly remain…”

"Patients get better, treatments end..."

Celebrating and honoring Black Poetry Day...

Reflections through poetry after a moving visit...

"You feel in your bones the gray gravity of late August clouds..."