Nov 2013
That canyon deep inside--that aching, echoing chasm
where at night your pain is so loud that you can’t sleep.
I’ve had one too, and so I ask as one who knows:
please don’t fill that canyon with rocks,
only to repeat when time weathers the rocks away
leaving the canyon empty and echoing again.
Don’t treat what hurts and ignore the cause.
Instead let your tears run, filling the canyon with a river
that’s fast and frightening.
Let me take your hand to travel in a boat up the scary waters of pain,
rowing together, moving out of the canyon to a place where nights are silent.
where at night your pain is so loud that you can’t sleep.
I’ve had one too, and so I ask as one who knows:
please don’t fill that canyon with rocks,
only to repeat when time weathers the rocks away
leaving the canyon empty and echoing again.
Don’t treat what hurts and ignore the cause.
Instead let your tears run, filling the canyon with a river
that’s fast and frightening.
Let me take your hand to travel in a boat up the scary waters of pain,
rowing together, moving out of the canyon to a place where nights are silent.
Above all, I want to help heal people. As a doctor, I can do that physically, but I also hope that I'll be able to help patients emotionally by giving encouragement and using my knowledge of diseases to bring a little peace of mind and hope to scary and painful circumstances. I know that won't always be possible, but I hope that in some situations, it will be. And when it's possible, I want to be there to empathize with my patients and hold their hands as they struggle through sad or frightening things.
