All That I've Grown to Love
SURYASNATA BHOWMIK, M.D. UMKC INTERNAL MEDICINE RESIDENT
A song without a melody, A guitar with a broken string, A key with a false note, Are all imperfections that I’ve grown to love A twisted smile with a broken heart, A lover trying to stay apart, A message that remains unsent, Are all stories that I’ve grown to love A feeling lingered on the lips, A sorry that lost its innocence, A goodbye left unsaid, Are all the pain that I’ve grown to love A smile that didn’t reach the eye, A plant whose leaves have but died, A story abandoned halfway, Are all the blanks that I’ve grown to love A kite that lost its tethering, A crime without a reckoning, A moon with long lost shine, Are all the flaws that I’ve grown to love A silent night with crickets and wind, The white noise of the demons within, The peace when you stop wrestling, Are all of me that I’ve grown to love!
Windows to the Soul
ASHNA CHALI UMKC MEDICAL STUDENT
We all remember the first pair of eyes Blue, beseeching, or bespectacled But as we deliver the news, All bloated and bleeding with tears. The man sitting before us is so many things, Father, brother, teacher Yet, in front of our eyes, all of these labels are erased By that one in bold: cancer patient. As the years pass by Some speeding, some stretching We hone our skills As the bearers of burdensome news. We train ourselves out of our instincts To dance around the topic, To soften the blow. Direct is best, wisdom says, so that’s what we become. Years of practice teach us efficiency, And eventually the countless pairs of eyes blur together. Yet, through the haze, that first pair lingers, reminding us all Of the souls at the end of our sentences.