Lightning

Born into this life, we are light wrapped in sinew and skin.

We’re given 5 liters of blood and a breath of oxygen.

Labels are soon affixed to our tender human egos like our gender and race.

Yet our spirit remains nameless, existing beyond the limits of time and space.

Beings of pure energy physically embodied, we are lighting in a bottle.

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

Our Mother’s Face

We thought we could improve perfection, Mama

When we drew lines across your face

Highways of asphalt scars connecting the

Clusters of concrete wounds on your cheeks

High rise buildings offering every luxury but you, Mama

We dig into you without asking, Mama, pounding into your bedrock

Even as you gently rock us to sleep each night, as if our actions are alright

We are the ones who refuse to turn out the lights

We don’t hear your wisdom, Mama, which you sing softly even now

We boast loudly but when do we listen, Mama?

We are shaken to the bone when we drill into you, Mama

Between fracking and petroleum, our hearts are in pandemonium

We make ourselves ill when we poison your blood

Dumping debris into your waters

We choke as we pollute your lungs

Pouring smoke into your atmosphere

We share a single circulatory and respiratory system with you, Mama

Our shortsighted deeds will always come back to haunt us in spades

We drink from your abundant cup, rarely satisfied that we have enough

We pretend to be separate from you even as we depend on you for our every breath, from birth to death

We think we know best but we haven’t fooled the rest, only ourselves

We act big, but we are dust on your mighty shoulders, Mama

Our mother has the most gorgeous face

Deep blue-green eyes and a sparkling smile

Bathed in rich brown skin, holding the miracle of life itself within her

Her beauty cannot be improved by anything man-made

To thrive, she needs only to be loved by those she loves unconditionally, by us

This is her divine lesson of self-love

Caring for the Earth is caring for ourselves

We spring forth from the Earth’s womb, are nourished by her breast, and remain connected to her indefinitely by an unbreakable umbilical cord

Though we mistreat you, we love you and we need you, Mama

You are the only oasis in the vast desert of the universe

We feel calm and content when we are close to you, Mama

Words are not your language

We must show our love for you through actions

Spending quality time with you

Living simply and sustainably

Voting with every transaction

Passing legislation to protect you from destruction by our hands

We have injured you too many times in the name of profit Mama, which only robs ourselves of true wealth: clean air, water and soil

We can’t buy more of you in any store, Mama

When we hurt you, we hurt ourselves more

You wait patiently for us to learn, even as we pillage and burn

You demonstrate how to love more completely, Mama, but that does not excuse our transgressions

This Earth Day, may we pause for reflection on our self-centered predilection

May we hold you in the center of our heart, where you always belonged from the start

Though at times we get distracted, more of your children are treading softly on you each day, Mama

May I be one such child of the Earth, and help others so inspired do the same

Your health depends on what we do today

May we lift our faces to you and see our collective dream come true

The Mirror Box

All my life
I feel like I’ve been trapped inside a mirror box:
A glass box made of one-way mirrors
This is cheap trick

When people look at me
They see only what they want to see
They see themselves in me
They see their desires come alive before their eyes
They can’t imagine that I’m locked inside

I can look out and see them
I try to scream
They don’t even hear a peep
Alas, this glass is sound proof

How can I break it
How can I smash it
How can I make it to the other side

Will I be able to breathe outside the safety of this mirror box, this cube-shaped solitary confinement that I call home?
It is all I have ever known
My voice does not obey me
It says what others want it to say
What cruel trick is this
That my voice is not my own?
Only through writing, ladies and gentlemen, can I let my true self roam

I want to break free from the mirror box
I want to feel the sun and fresh air on my hair
I want to feel safe in my skin
I want to feel like a person without fear

My Corner Drug Dealer

My dealer waits for me
On every corner of every town in every state
Their supply never runs out and their drug
temporarily makes me feel great                                                                                               Until withdrawal begins, though I’ve yet to withdraw for long                                                             My drug is everywhere and my dependence is strong

My dealer is every store
My drug is sugar
Sugar finds its way under my skin
Even when I think I’m not going to let it in
It is suddenly in my hands, then melts in my mouth
My gastrointestinal tract welcomes it
My blood carries it around
It causes little fires everywhere in my body through inflammation
It over-taxes my pancreas which struggles to produce enough insulin to handle the copious amounts of sugar I pour into myself
Sugar never stays long on my pantry’s shelf
While vegetables, the true heroes of this story
Wilt in the fridge in unsung glory                                                                                                You are neglected but not forgotten, dear salad greens

Sugar comes in an endless variety of colorful packages
At my corner drug store, it was on sale today
So I easily threw my vague intention to abstain away
It doesn’t take much
For me to justify buying another sugar rush                                                                                                         When it comes disguised with vitamins, fiber, probiotics and protein                                               and covered with velvety dark chocolate                                                                                       It is even organic, for Chrissakes                                                                                                       A wolf in sheep’s clothing

In the throes of my addiction,
I fool myself into believing that my affliction is not so bad                                                         I will stop after I finish what I’ve got
It is already bought, so I better use it
I’m just using it because I have it
Otherwise, it’s a waste of money, right?
A person’s gotta eat, and I need energy for my busy life

I know that in reality
My drug will finish me
It is only a matter of time
Until my body won’t be able to stand the abuse anymore
Sooner or later the drug will crash through my door
Crush me helpless on the floor
It will be too late to un-do what I spent a lifetime doing then
One mouthful of sweet poison at a time

My willpower is weak when I am stressed out and hungry
I wish that my corner drug dealer would stop tempting me so
If sugar was less ubiquitous, not so easily found
How might that boost your wellbeing, help you reach your health goals?
How much would it radically improve the health of our nation, our world?
How sweet would it be to see our epidemics of obesity and diabetes decrease?                Tell morbidity and mortality to go bark up someone else’s tree
We may never see in our American lifetime                                                                               An end to the societal sugar overdose
But I want to plant the idea seed
And see if it grows
Maybe someday I will quit sugar
If only for today                                                                                                                            Today was not the day                                                                                                                      But tomorrow still could be