Eve

I loved you because I loathe myself.

I blindly pushed through the red flags you were covered with, armed with an explanation for every asinine decision.

‘You did what?’ you asked me, eager to pile on the shame men reserve for the women they dishonor with their advances.

I accepted that I made a mistake but I was mistaken that I owed you anything, let alone my life.

By eating apples, I realized that I am the universe experiencing itself.

I am the fruit of the tree of life.

Snow globes

My Grandmother gave me four snow globes over the course of four winters

Each has a place on my shelf, frozen in time

When I look at them I am reminded of my Grandmother’s love, of that beating heart that gave it’s own blood to bear four children.

Each snow globe holds a lesson

One contains tropical fish swimming over ceramic coral; it reminds me to stay fluid, to keep moving forward in the face of obstacles

Another houses a castle; it reminds me to stay strong, stand firm and feel at home in my body

The third encases a wizard; it reminds me to stay open to the magic of the present moment

The fourth has a family of panda bears in it; it reminds me that I am connected to all living things

I used to have a fifth snow globe which contained a unicorn; it was smashed when I left it unattended, reminding me to take care of what I have

Sometimes I think about giving my snow globes away

They could have a new life and brighten a child’s day

For now, they stay

Musings

On the shores of sleep

Waiting for the tide of insomnia to roll out

I am crushed by anger

I struggle to breathe under the weight of it

Lord, take this burden from me

My dustbin collects what I’ve tossed aside for later

Later is now

There’s a feeling I can’t shake that the whole universe is a flake of dandruff on the scalp of a much larger being

When I am the queen bee, the person I sting the most is me

Life on Earth is a virtual reality ride at the intergalactic carnival

Human life passes quickly in the context of eternity

We’re just playing

You can do what you want to your avatar body, made from the latest technology

All that I wanted, all that I need, was always inside me

To tap into timelessness by returning my attention to the present, to reassure myself that I am more than ok- this is the meditation that frees my spirit

I return to this meditation again and again, waves lapping on the shore of consciousness

My anger boulder is also the rock that supports me

I offer up my rock collection

Lord, please take what I don’t know what to do with, what I no longer need

I feel lighter already

I have an old habit of letting the perfect be the enemy of the good

May I be ok with feeling hurt and not throw the whole relationship away

May I become comfortable with discomfort and stay

I usually dream that I am being persecuted- I run, fly, and fight ineffectively

When I scream no sound comes out

Last night I dreamt that I was being bullied, publicly humiliated and subjugated to abuse of power- another day on the job

Vultures ripped at my exposed flesh- bon appetit

The difference between us is our intention

My spirit sent a sincere namaste third-eye wink to the bully

She felt a spark of light in her heart and didn’t know what to do, it disarmed her

I think that on some level, she recognized the divine too

Hallelujah

Soar

This body is my prison

Everybody has a body

Everybody is somebody’s son or daughter or both

Everybody is somebody

I’m tired of trying to be somebody and failing and flailing

When I could shed the skin I’m in

Crack open my ribcage and fly free

I’d let go of my eyes that once gazed into yours and kiss goodbye my lips that once kissed yours

I’d let go of my strength and my softness, my curves and my curls

I’d give up my form, vanities and imperfections

I’ve flirted with suicide my whole life

And spoken of it to no one except the one who pulled it off

I heard his rib cage crack open on the concrete below our college dorm

I understood

Afterward, we sad survivors put on a show- a tragedy!

But he just did what he wanted to

What many of us want to

Those who want to be free from their body know

The temptation to empty the lead from their pockets

And soar

Off My Chest

I need to get you off my chest

I’ve never felt relaxed in my life because you raised me in the war zone of your wrath

Bombs of panic explode in my mind all day every day

Choking me with your smoke and mirrors even though you are far away

My ears ring with your shouting

You were the biggest little tyrant

Not even two years my senior

Yet always more needy

Mandating, yet begging

I didn’t realize the power I had over you, and still do

You were the one dependent on me for affirmation, not the other way around

I didn’t have a choice then, but I do now-

To live a life without your storms brewing on my horizon

I’ve never slept well in my life because I thought you were going to murder me in my sleep throughout our childhood and adolescence

I used lie in bed wearing a cross around my neck with a note attached to it asking you to think before acting, waiting for dawn to break, dreading another day with you, feeling trapped and hopeless with no end in sight

I never felt protected, respected, seen or heard by our parents

In moments of desperation, I wish you had killed me

Instead you continue to torture me passive aggressively, and I am passive passive aggressive

Silenced, as if buried alive

I toss and turn, tormented between insomnia and nightmares

I’m trying to think before I act

I am upset that I’m even thinking about you now

I am upset about how you get upset ‘at’ me: you throw your rage at me and have me clean up the mess, time and time again, left to calm your ass down as if your reactions were justifiable or somehow my fault

It was never my fault

I am not responsible for how you feel

Leave me alone you evil bitch

I want to scream at you with the force of 35 years of repressed anger and tears

At the same time, I am trying to let go of the hot coal which burns my palm

I am trying to let the rippling waters of my pond be still

I am trying to not be irritated, for only then will you no longer be irritating

I am trying to take responsibility for my thoughts and feelings

I am tired of trying so damn hard

I am ready for ease

I am ready for peace

I am ready to breathe

Please, get off my chest

I don’t need to ask- I am responsible for how I feel

I’m not sure what to do next

I’ll probably meditate and self-medicate with raw emo poetry

Like the note pinned to my cross-necklace, you will probably never read this

But maybe those who matter will

Those who feel they are suffering alone

May find healing in this onion peel

And breathe just one breath more freely

For this I humbly pray

Namaste

Workaholic

I went into medicine partly due to heartbreak

The exhaustive training of medical school and residency was a welcome albeit ineffective distraction from my sorrow and loneliness

24-hour shifts are a convenient justification for not keeping in touch with loved ones

Even though the real excuse is my social anxiety and sense of inadequacy

Living within hospital walls, I suspect that I am not the only physician who became a medical doctor to try to forget unrequited love, to escape the world of human relationships

My older colleagues work far more than they need to to make ends meet, far more than any reasonable person would work in a week

Who needs friends or feelings when you have patients and science?

Our skin grows pale under fluorescent lights

Our vision becomes shortsighted as the screens stare unblinkingly

Our hearts forget how to feel carefree

Our muscles atrophy as our brains hypertrophy

Our minds become boxed in with facts, our mental filing cabinets overflow

I am a recovering workaholic working alongside workaholics who do not appear to be in recovery

Perhaps they suspect the same of me

Heads down in the trenches, none of us can know another’s heart

We can only know our own heart, if we listen

We carefully administer medications, surgeries and therapies

We measure progress in numerical metrics of lab values, calculated scores and vital signs

We arrive early and stay late

We work day and night without a break

We always have too much on our plates

We deprive ourselves of sleep, fresh air and food

We know why we have irritable moods

Practicing medicine is an unhealthy, imbalanced lifestyle and we know it

We can only ever heal ourselves

I’m ready to show it

I am finally healing my broken heart

I found that I had to begin at the start

Childhood wounds tangle and bloom

Trauma begets trauma until we change our thoughts, words and actions

Breaking old patterns even as we hold traction

I am love itself, I am the source of what I sought

My cup overflows, it was not all for naught

Death Certificate

Another day, another death by COVID.

My COVID patient who died today was relatively healthy and young.

While filling out his death certificate, I paused over the ’cause of death’ section:

 

My patient had multi-organ failure with a subsequent cardiac arrhythmia incompatible with life and viral pneumonia causing respiratory failure, however the failure that lead up to his COVID infection was systemic at a societal level.

 

My patient was a prisoner, infected by COVID-19 because he was denied the ability to socially distance, robbed of the right the protect himself.

 

I didn’t know him, but as I studied his body during his final hours I imagined what his life had been like, and wanted to include on his death certificate:

 

Cause of death:

Complications resulting from loss of human rights due to imprisonment

Secondary to the prison-industrial complex

Secondary to class warfare

Secondary to poverty

Secondary to racism

 

I didn’t know him, but I shared pieces of his struggle:

Adverse childhood experiences, trauma on trauma on trauma

 

His premature death is another stone in my pocket

My path is liberation

Wherever his soul is now, I hope he feels liberated too

Liberated from the brown skin which lead to his incarceration which inevitably did him in.

Orderly

There was seemingly so much order in the house

I didn’t hear the echoes of screams or shouts

Silence deafened the din

The ticking clock was the only sound within

All those books lined up stoically on shelves

Couldn’t hold back his chaos from hell

Every room was clean and neat

Her living nightmare uncontained by crisp white sheets

Grandma, you lived with abuse all those years

Warrior-strong, I never saw your tears

Grandpa’s explosive anger was unjustified

You finally have peace now that he died

But you can’t turn back time

You can’t take back years of your life

From your struggle, I have learned

I depend on no man for what I earn

I prioritize how I feel inside

Over how others perceive my life

Spring cleaning starts in my mind

My relationships are full of ease, not strife

I know you had your reasons

And I thank you for your sacrifice

I honor you by living my best life

Sex, Money, Dishes

Tell me you’ve never fought with your partner about sex, money, or dishes.

Sex

I used to fight endlessly about sex, mainly because I didn’t want to have it but my partners did, so we’d fight and fuck, then I’d cry and be blinded by images of destroying my body or their body just to stop the rape and the torture of not feeling safe in my skin. Amazingly, we all survived and now I have a loving partner with whom I have gold-medal sex; you have to experience it to believe it, it’s like I’m cashing in on some sex fund which I invested in long ago. Happily I don’t fight about sex anymore- I’ve got a man I’m attracted to inside and out, and he loves me the way I want to be loved.

Money

I used to exchange sex for money. It seemed like there was always too much sex and not enough money in those transactions, or transgressions. Even those back-alley deals were more straight forward than my relationships in which sex was exchanged for the illusion of not being alone, for food, housing or ‘safety’, though I learned that the cost to my physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing which false relationships exacted was not worth the dinners, drinks, gifts of lingerie, attention or the roof over my head. You might get raped if you travel alone, but if you travel with a man you are guaranteed to get raped. Live within your means because fine dining won’t taste good if you are eating with a strange man, believe me I know. If you have to learn on your own I understand, however if my years of pain can help prevent a moment of your suffering, it will have been worth it.

Dishes

Rare is the man who finishes the dishes. Common are the men who stack the dishes artfully in the sink until there is barely room to turn on the faucet. I have noticed this pattern during my co-habitations with men. I’ve done too many dishes. It especially irks me when men drown sponges in the rinsed yet still not washed dish pile, unperturbed as the sponge decomposes into a musty mess. Men seem deaf to the silent cries of the forgotten dish sponge. Day after day, I rescue the sponge, wringing it out and restoring it to its rightful place safe on dry land, in sight. My man shows his love for me not only through our award-winning sex, but also through money (ie, responsibility for personal  finances to contribute to our future together) and dishes: ladies and gentlemen, my man did the dishes tonight, thus allowing me time to write the words you read. If a man loves you he will want to learn your love language, which you must teach him with patience, positive reinforcement, and more patience.

I grew up doing the dishes, in poverty, and sexually molested by family and friends. My sister would beat me when she got in trouble for not doing the dishes with me after we were told to do them, but the alternative would have been getting beaten by my parents for not doing the dishes, so I was going to get beat no matter what I did. I wished that someone would do the fucking dishes with me. A girl can get lonely amidst the dissolving suds.

Let Every Moment be a Song

Let every moment be a song from your heart

This is a song without an end, without a start

Let every moment be a song from your heart,

Boom badoomboom boom badoomboom boom

With each beat of your heart may you feel loved

With each beat may you shine out that love

With each beat may you share it up above

and below and out and in

and out

Let every moment be a song from your heart

It doesn’t have to loud or smart

Let every moment be an expression of peace

Peace in your heart is where peace always starts

How far your peace will go, nobody knows

I hope your peace comes back to you

I hope you can feel my peace too

With each breath may you feel blessed

Each moment may you feel loved, at peace, and blessed

One day we’ll pass away

Where we’ll go nobody knows

When that time comes, may we rest

Until then, may you feel your heart overflow with love and peace

May you share it with those you know

and those you haven’t met

When we die, we will leave our bodies behind

Perhaps we will be able to bring peace and love with us, though we will have no pockets or hands

I practice love and peace in my life

Though I forget sometimes that I am love, I remember again

My life is more sacred than I know, made more precious by inevitable death

May every moment be a song of love from my heart

May my inner peace be a light in the dark

May your song fill you with joy

If it doesn’t, change your song

We all sing along on the one and only stage of life