Poetry: Bright Fluorescent Sky

To heal the sick is a noble profession, but being sick yourself and on the other side of all that nobility – it is isolating. I recently needed a surgery, and there was this really strange in-between of watching the doctors sometimes forget I was a patient and sometimes forget I was almost one of them.

Under a bright fluorescent sky no woman is queen

And even us anointed ones who walk with black pens in hand

Boots of heeled leather and the holy snake around our necks

Are held equal and humbled down by unrelenting nature

Who sweeps us aside in her grand seasons and

All our grand discharge plans and grand rounds

Are left to the wayside in the rush to heal the sick

Fights are forgotten and unity is found in the bright lights needed

To win an unending and unwinnable war

You and I are not so different, in truth we are all only

One bad day away from counting backwards to seven

My hand quivers and holds tight to my brothers

While I fall asleep under a bright fluorescent sky

Thank you to everyone involved,

MarieAthena x

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