Non-Fiction Saturdays

beneath

a haibun, 3 parts

Photo by Sébastien Conejo via Mixkit.co

The wonders of the world lay deep beneath her hair. The very essence of what there is to gain from a stressful day full of anguish and the sounds of beasts rapping at closed doors is nothing. I tell her to press forward and find her strength in the pulse of a tiger’s breath, but she is not interested in climbing up the optimistic ladder tonight. I smell safety around the corner. She runs for cover. I stand with my hands held high — raised above my head. I surrender to the depth of this defeat. She claims my trust.

beneath her red locks
is a star-spangled blue moon
a wondrous new world

Broken babies and haunted Mamas wield their way into our midst. We shield ourselves from their pressure. The room is ice. There is no fire for warmth. I rub my hands together and watch the steam sift in through the cracks. She takes two steps forward, purses her lips against the air, and lets out a sigh of relief. The floor is empty. Patients are packing up — discharged by their residents or attendings. We dance alone. A tango. A foxtrot. A waltz. I simmer in the darkness with her.

lonely in this place
of impatience and patients
dancing the foxtrot

Big Pharma called the shots on the drug saving his life — it’s no longer covered. He’s in room 213 of the ICU. Death is standing by his door. She pulls a mask on to her face, laces her hands with gloves, and walks in to oversee the cleanliness of his space. He is barely breathing. The sun skips on the open blinds — his hair never touches the pillow. There, in the silence of the room, she prays to a God who walks the halls but forgets to open the doors.

on-call patient care
fills up her nightly duties
death is still coming


Author’s Note: I wrote this piece as a reflection on the most recent book I read which was In Shock: My Journey from Death to Recovery and the Redemptive Power of Hope by Rana Adwish, MD. If you’ve not given it a read and you’re interested in knowing what a physician has to say about being the patient who dies, is brought back to life, and lives to see just how medicine needs transforming — this is a book I’d recommend for you. Peace.

*Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

The Simple Things #12

For the past eleven Saturdays, I have shared three things that I believe to be the simple things in life, yet things that make me extremely happy. I invited you to do the same. This is the last The Simple Things post. 

freebooks
Eliot Peper via Unsplash

1. free books
2. cocoa butter lotion
3. peppermint soap


Now, it’s your turn! Share with me (in the comments), three simple things in life that make you happy. Please reblog, share this post, and give others a smile and a little bit of love. If you reblog the post, please ping or tag my blog and use the words Simple Things” and “Happy” as your blog entry tags.

Are you ready, folks? Can we keep the love flowing by sharing the simple things that make us happy? This is our The Simple Things Share Post #12 and also the FINAL one. Have fun and let the happiness begin!

For I Am Flawed

I dreamt… She came from the sea,
Shored at noon, gifting her light
To my dark heart.
She’d pierced it once before.
“I am ready if you are.”
To study us would be a headache
Begging for an escape–
Temples throbbing deep into the night,
The course it would take would
Be a lifetime plus ten more.

“You do not want me now
For I am flawed beyond repair
Damaged and ill in my age.”
It seemed like the perfect response
To an older version of me,
A sound excuse that did not need repeating.
She ignored my rebuttal and
Continued her approach.

“I have had time. I was blind
Before, pain stunted my growth.
I am ready now if you are.”
I watched her wrinkled brows,
Focused on her uneven lips,
And smiled at the only dimple
Fighting for attention.

“If you would have asked me
Three weeks ago, I would have
Said yes, but I am flawed beyond repair,
I do not know how to heal
Your old wound.”
I knew she would ache in a way
That would satisfy my
Vengeful heart and it excited me
To see her squirm.

I am pieces of a thing
That missed out on other things
And most things that come to
Piece me back together again
End up broken things…

I never wanted it to be her.
But, I am flawed now
And in need of repair.


Author’s Note: I recently finished “Circe” by Madeline Miller. I loved it. Even if you aren’t a big fan of Greek Mythology, I assure you, you will appreciate her efforts in this retelling of the great “Witch Goddess.”