You were told —
You're rookies.
Interns.
Bottom of the food chain.
Nothing you do matters
Mainly by nobody's
Not your nights, not your notes,
Not the weight in your chest
When a patient won’t wake.
You all think you’ll change the world,
They laughed.
Fast forward—
Reality checked in cold scrubs.
Now you own everything.
If it’s broken,
It’s on you.
If it heals,
You get no name.
No thanks.
What’s wrong?
You.
What’s right?
You feel good, maybe.
But don't get cocky.
You keep tabs.
You pass info—
Forward, backward,
Up the chain,
Down the drain.
And maybe—
just maybe—
you won’t make a **** difference.
No statues,
No speeches.
No glory.
But if you do nothing...
If you bow out—
It might tinge your soul.
Not with fire.
But with a quiet,
Lasting rot.
So suit up.
You’re still a rookie.
But you showed up.
And that
still
means
something.

I.
Box fans and mowers drone below,
distant traffic murmurs through summer’s heat.
Memory presses: teeth and old thunder.
Regret. Punishment. Hope. Repeat.

My ears ring with histories,
sometimes cicadas, sometimes sermons,
sometimes her humming, barefoot by the creek,
sometimes the sting of my father’s belt.

Sunlight slants through bloated magnolia leaves,
thick as tongues,
slick with old rain.
It stains the walls with a color like yolk,
like aging joy.

II.
I wake in moonlight,
before the rumble.
Step barefoot onto concrete
still warm from the last sun.

The sky is full of stubborn stars,
hung from the last funeral.
I watch. I wait.
No birds yet. No breeze.
I stay.

I tell myself this is peace.
But the silence knows better.

We can get
accustomed
to being too
familiar
with the
familiar
paths in life
under the
mesmerizing
mood
of
moonlight
starlight
or
streetlight
and
wind-up
taking
unwitting
detours off
these
familiar
paths in the
light of day
and lose
our way.

You are the moon
And the sun.
I am but a star;
Not to be diminished,
I sparkle bright, light, fluorescent
and far —

I’m wondering about the state of my life
It seems as dull as an old pocket knife
No satisfaction in the work I do
No colors but grey and blue

I’m older now and maybe wiser somehow
Seen a lot of time go by up to now
Looking back, it was all so quick
Got a few memories that seem to stick

I remember love, I remember pain
I remember playing out in the rain
I remember people, time and places
I don’t remember names when I see their faces

How much older does one have to be
To understand the things, you need to see
Does age give you rights to win in a fight
Does it let you be the one to see the light

Now it seems that time goes by slow
And it moves based on what you know
Experience can teach you later on
It comes after the lesson is known

I don’t get too excited any more
There’s no mystery behind every door
Been there, done that and moved on
Seen everything I’ve been shown

Looks like old age is for looking back
Wishing for another crack
Wouldn’t do it all over again
Unless it came out the same in the end

So, I’m growing old just for fun
I got wrinkles from too much sun
Can’t say that it’s said and done
Any day just might be the one

you light a match
the flame forgets
I close my eyes
echoes pass through us
I can't tell, is it
a mirror or a door
we are suspended in shapes
that keep on crying

In place of shadows
sunspots and creases
an embankment the gray of day seizes
      nailed to peril as a savior
      pushes out all traces in its labor

Dust and smoke
--the heartless void
above the faded ring of hope
      say a sated prayer
      for your fellow wayfarer

I'll shield your body between
the rays and surface
I'll be your dark clouded step
     when your own feet fail to purchase
     into the ground they sink

While waiting,
Outside in the cold weather,
My breath, forming puffs
Like smoke;
My mind melted back, memories —
Of a young-ish Little Bek,
Holding a “***”* in my right hand, 
puffing rings
Of imaginary smoke.
Thinking of this made me chuckle,
So much, I almost choked 
On the imaginary frosty smoke.

Your name just appeared on my screen...
I didn't write it and you didn't call ==
I hadn't seen it for a while, I haven't thought of you for longer.

It came from a misspelt word: a bunch of odd letters scrambled together trying to form coherency.
What it brought back were memories much;
Memories of our time together, which in the moment felt thrilling, exhilarating and reckless ==

For a long while since, I've been reflecting, refracting and returning ==
I now understand you were like my father,  trying again to have control over me;
You were unresolved emotions, actions and words ==
Things I was not conscious of.

Now, more adept at decoding subliminal thoughts and actions,
I want to push you right back, from the darkness whence you came.

It wasn't the freeze that took my breath away, 
this morning, it was this memory of you ==
A cloak of chains that spoke.
I want to shake it off and run free, far from your memory ==
Like a babe in the Garden of Eden
not knowing the evil that surrounded them.
But I'm not losing a single hair to care
that life is not fair.
Just enjoying the freedom == 

I don't know what you want from me,
That you prompt me with this memory ==
I don't know what you expect,
Demanding reciprocity,
Obliterating my freedom, when you extracted,
All the foundations of connection.
and thresholds of compassion.
All the holdings of collaboration.
Leaving nothing but destruction.