Poems

[orthodoc]

i hate to post two drafts in one night. Still, this one came to mind as I thought about my training and the painful situations, the people I met, the frustration I felt as lives slipped away while I held hands with the dying and my staffmen played squash. And the crazy schedules, where staying up for 72 or more hours was the norm, and we all pretended we were bipolar (in terms of ability to go without sleep for days). And the inevitable burnout. Also my friend Arthur, who actually was bipolar and who didn't survive the crucible.

A Little Bipolar
for Arthur, with love and regret

A little bit
A little tad

Bipolar
It’s the fad

I am immense
I am intense
I am the sun

I live all day all night
Make my own daylight
Yet still I fight
I’m my own sun

I write the best
I’ve ever done
When I’m half-drunk
Not nearly done
I just release
All that turns to stone
And move on

I blaze all night
The shadows fade
I greet first light and pray
no answer comes

I am intense
I am the sun
I have done all of this
So many years

Worked the halls
Of The Best Damned Hospital in the Land
Stayed the weekend
With the Baba, Yaya, Oma, and
Listened to her whisper
Her fear, her pain
Held her hand as she died
While the boss played squash
Again

Worked the halls
Strode the halls
Denizen of the wards
Victim of the wards

Took on the man
Despised bereft
Broken jaw
No academic puzzle
Just an addict, just a thief
Knew what he needed; no, implied
Grabbed my arm would not let go
I know we all need
Need to get through the night

Fell asleep on the retractor
It happens to the best of us
Stabbed by the Ob/Gyn
Along with his victim
Happens to the rest of us

We do what we must
Leave the rest
If we’re lucky
Don’t distress
Don’t leave too soon
Arthur you are missed
You were the best of us
You left too soon

Later no more sleep
No more luck
Stayed up with a better crew
Still came unstuck

The first thing that
A principle does
Is kill someone
A wise man said
Don’t test that one
It’s true
The innocent are dead

And so we limp
Into the dark
We dread the call
we have no more
to give to those who need
our blood, our life, our seed

We cringe as we
Encounter those
We’ve bled and sewn
We cannot fill
The vast abyss
Of need and pain

We limp away
Into the dark
And seek oblivion
But still
The perverse spark
Refuses any place of respite

Yet

A little bit
A little tad
Bipolar it’s the fad

If not that, then what?
Just mad
We retreat into the shade
Hide from the sun
Afraid to speak to anyone

I was immense
I was intense
I was the sun

I could protect
I could defeat
Anyone