Face and Hands
How do you view those who don the white coat?
The thought of your care
Belies the fact that you excel
When you are there
To show and not tell.
Medicine is your face and hands
People swear that you have money.
And you produce enough for demands
To make your bank account sunny.
But you do it for joy.
The challenge is in the work.
You save what Death tries to destroy.
Instead of letting her lurk.
But even if breath stops,
You have a singular goal.
When brain function drops
You hold onto your role.
Folks feel that posh neighborhoods
Belong in your vest.
They sense that you have the goods
But you show your best.
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Skyler Saunders
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Smartystan
Chanda sent home money every two weeks. In a small village in India, she deposited money into the bank account of her Aunt and Uncle who sent her to live in America. The place seemed so remote, almost cut off from the rest of the country. There, a festival took place where participants hurled cow eliminations at each other. The muddy, mucky sense of it had been known for centuries. Locals tied it to an ancient god who they believed restored people’s health with the cow plops. During the festival, thick patties hurled through the air and smushed into the bodies and faces of those rollicking around in the filth.
By Skyler SaundersExclusive • 3 days ago
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