Passion…unbridled

I mourn for you, my patient who did not

Make it out of the hospital, hard though you fought

You had placed your trust in my judgment

To give you the best outcome was my intent

The risk-benefit ratio was favorable, I had explained

The results of the treatment were good in my experience, I had claimed

Even though you were brought to our attention a bit late

When you were already in a decompensated state

I was cautiously optimistic that you would pull through

As you struggled, we attempted every measure to salvage you

The concerted efforts of an excellent team were not enough

To change your fate, to accept the inevitable outcome was tough

For me and my team, it was dispiriting to break

The news to your family, to witness the heartbreak…

*

I mourn for the life after treatment you never got to see

I obsess over whether I could have done things differently

Those who do not make it are the ones who leave behind

The most profound lessons-for my soul and my mind

Today was an important lesson for me

In recognizing my limitations, practicing humility

If you have an ingenious idea or a hack

To share it with the world you do not lack

An opportunity these days, as any skill however small

Can be shared on social media for the benefit of all

You can showcase any talent you possess

You can obtain instantaneous success

The kind of recognition that used to be

Reserved for movie stars, world leaders or royalty

Can fall into the lap of anyone who creates content

That resonates with the masses, has an appeal instant

A video that goes viral can catapult into fame

Any influencer, make them a household name

Artists gain visibility on instagram reels now

All I can say is that I totally love how

In a world with increasing economic disparity

Social media is a leveler in terms of popularity

(This poem was prompted by a Facebook post from a mother about how to talk to her preschooler about guns and shooting, and how her child had nightmares after she did so…. Unfortunately I have no answers)

To you, young children, we want to profusely apologize

For being unable to raise you in a society civilized

Without fear, even before you have learnt your R’s three

In hiding below desks you are gaining mastery

Participating in active shooter drills while we pray

That your innocence would not be prematurely snatched away

As you come out of the shadows of pandemic isolation

You are being forced to prepare for violent situations

The world is an unsafe and scary place

But violence is something you should not have to face

Least of all in school- how can we expect you to learn

When danger seems to lurk at every turn..

*

My dear children, we have failed you

In providing a sense of security, a safe milieu…

I spend a large part of my life mapping it out

Careful planning is something I cannot do without

There are responsibilities, and variables too many to consider before

I take decisions big and small, I rely more and more

On a calendar to ensure smooth passage of days

Even when life derails plans in unexpected ways

I have back-up plans in place to some extent

To cushion the harsh blow of a disastrous event

When things go as planned, I look at life with gratitude

Plan and hope for the best is my attitude

*

A life carefully planned does get predictable

There are few spontaneous moments that enable

Your breath to be taken away, in pleasant surprise

Such rare moments are the ones that leave me energized

They remind me that once in a while I should leave

Unplanned time in my schedule, just believe

Life would have something interesting for me

That if I’m prepared to be amazed, I would see

Going off the grid sounded like a romantic notion

But when I was off the grid, anxiety was my predominant emotion

The reality of being unreachable appeared

Unsettling at the least – I feared

What would happen if there was a catastrophe

And my family needed to reach me urgently

Or if I had an accident in the wilderness

How in the world would help I access?

I looked repeatedly at my phone in dismay

The signal bars absent seemed to stay

I did not realize how much I had come to rely

On the internet, on omnipresent wi-fi

*

I ended up doing what I should have done anyway

Devoid of technology, I focused my attention that day

On exploring unspoiled nature with my family

My photographs could not be posted on social media obviously

I realized how the day’s travel experience

Was different from usual in every sense

I found I had freed up more mental space

To take in the beauty of a picturesque place

Why am I hypercharged at the end of the day

Thoughts race through my mind, I cannot will them away

All the events of the day seem to run

Through my mind, it seems I have begun

Yet another round where I replay

The emotions I felt throughout the day

I am excited, anxious or angry again

I find myself more emotionally drained

Unable to sleep, I struggle to unwind

As a jumble of thoughts plays havoc with my mind..

Finally I sink into sleep somehow

That adequate rest does not allow

The cycle seems to repeat every day

Until my nerves have begun to fray

Then one night the Gods of sleep bestow

Their blessings on me and I’m able to throw

Everything into oblivion, I surrender myself completely

To cumulative exhaustion, let restorative sleep wash over me

(This poem more appropriately represents my American born child’s thoughts- I am the first generation immigrant)

Even when they talk about kindness to self, the pressure is there

Relentless; something of which you are constantly aware

You know the American Dream you have to embody

You know successful in traditional terms is the only way to be

Anything that deviates from that self-inflicted stereotype

Is disdainful, you just have to live up to the hype

Of a hard-working, academically brilliant science nerd

You have to be in the race, be seen and heard

Overt pushes and subtle nudges all combine

To direct you towards a well-trod path, so you can shine…

*

The baggage of immigration gets passed down to you

The dreams of your parents you feel like you have to carry through

Burdened with the weight of the struggles they faced

You yourself struggle to find your unique place

The American Dream was not meant to be

As restrictive as for you it has turned out to be…

*

So you protest at times, but boundaries you respect

You’ve learnt to live within constraints, and this aspect

Leads you to success despite all your doubts

Under the pressure you could have done without

Let me wring them out from inside me

Hang them to dry unabashedly

All the monsters of self-doubt

The negative self-talk I can do without

Let me extract them from where they reside

Deep in my psyche, where I have internalized

All the admonitions and interruptions- that I hear

That hold me back from action, keep me rooted in fear

Many should-not(s), cannot(s) and would-not(s) need to be

Banished from my playbook completely

Let me cleanse my spirit of all of these

With a clean slate, I shall do what I please

Why is it that the most authentic story that dwells

Within you is often the hardest to tell

*

All of us weave stories to make sense

Of the world around us that we experience

We blend the truth with our perception

And this leads to the inception

Of the many stories we conjure

To narrate to the world, that’s how we endure

The many challenges that life throws our way

Allowing us to express what we’d like to say

*

Sometimes a painful experience is so intense

That speaking of it causes distress immense

There is a story here that remains caged inside

That is the story that should not hide

Behind the veils of judgment or shame

It begs to be told, it burns like a flame

Scorching you from inside as you attempt

To keep it from external ears exempt

*

The story that is the hardest to articulate

Is the one most authentic, the one you must narrate

For yourself- so that a different perspective you can gain

For the world- so that people understand others’ pain

I start expressing my thoughts, then check again

Are these thoughts truly mine or do they represent ideas ingrained

Deep within by the society I grew up in

With all its biases that I no longer believe in

When I examine issues in greater depth I can see

That I have no reason to trust stereotypes perpetrated by society

But if I do not make an effort to question my views

Consciously or subconsciously I remain biased too

*

It’s easy to accept what you’ve heard throughout

If you don’t think about it, you have no reason to doubt

Things that on the surface appear to be true

Thus centuries of biases get passed down to you..

*

To eliminate biases from my thoughts I need

To make conscious and sustained efforts indeed

To gather objective information, examine it and come to

My less biased conclusions- this is what I resolve to do

Creative juices seem to flow invariably

When I have no time to act on them, you see

When I have ideas, there is no opportunity to save them anywhere

From my short-term memory they drift away, leaving me unaware

That they would not be retrievable on demand

My memory is unreliable, I’ve come to understand

When I sit down uninterrupted at a time allocated separately

For creative endeavors, I face a mental block inevitably

I cannot recall the ideas that had seemed bright

Staring into empty space, a thought vacuum I fight

Until I give up in frustration, having spent

Precious hours in futility, I cannot help but resent

The unpredictable flow of creativity that requires

The luxury of idle time to get inspired..

*

Sometimes I am blessed with an unexpected burst of creativity

And I am able to act on that golden opportunity

To create something of artistic merit (hopefully)

The exercise never fails to rejuvenate me

A promise to myself I make

That if, in the future, I break

If I shatter into pieces myriad

If I end up hurting bad

From life’s vicissitudes-

I shall carry a sliver of gratitude

That would be the powdered gold

Allowing myself to mold

Broken parts of me into whole

Embrace my newly repaired soul