Treasuring Sensation

Clark Reflection Series Prompt:

Write about a rich sensory experience- a time where you experienced touch, sound, smell, sight, taste.... in a particularly vivid, striking way.

Response:

The concrete was cool,
But the air was not.
And the air between us was most definitely not.

I don't remember why, but I scooted closer to you.
And I don't remember how but in one swift movement
You pulled me up onto your lap.
I had never felt so light.

Light maybe because your strength made me
Feel so physically small,
But more likely because of the life you breathed into me.

When we kissed for that first time,

It was the feeling of your lips.
They were different.

The feeling of your lips
On my teeth
Because for some silly reason
I just couldn't stop smiling.

With just one inhale,
I breathed all of you in.

Your soul running through my entire body,
Every inch of me, touching you,
Now tingling with air and with life.

Comments

"We are sorry, you did not match to any position."

For the very first time today I can finally say that I understand Passive suicidal ideation. An abstract symptomatology Now clear as day As I sit here wishing that I wasn’t Trying to scream for help But unable to catch enough air to do so. It took me over 57 hours To admit to my parents that my lifelong dream, My 3 degrees and now almost 4, Those 9 straight years of missing out, And half a million dollars of student debt Has all surmounted to nothing. I have been in this constant cycle Of holding my breath Waiting to exhale while I Work, and wait, and hope That everything I have done and endured and accomplished Would in someone else’s universe Be enough. I am adaptable, compassionate, and resilient. My hands are warm. They are steady. And they are talented. I am an unrelenting advocate for my patients and my peers and for wellness. I have given every ounce of myself to Every single team I have ever been apart of And it seems that I have ...

Thank you, Dr. Franklin.

At the recommendation of my counselor and the request of my dear friend, Cindy, I have been tasked to write about you. Yet, I have been sitting here for days. I have been trying to figure out what to say, trying to muster up the strength to sit face to face with this grief and carry the weight of this heavy heart. How do I come to terms with the fact that there is absolutely no possible way to put into words -- words that you will now never get to hear -- exactly what and how much you mean to me? But you, Dr. Franklin, would simply not stand for hesitancy, for stagnation. And I can almost guarantee that you would not want the tears. You would expect and demand action. So while I can't promise you that it will be as pretty as the sutures you taught me to throw or as clean as the gallbladder fossa s/p lap chole, here I am and I am moving.

Empty

I feel so empty here. I thought that I would find my place but All that I have now is space, so empty. Floating in the background of everyone else's lives only to be Called to the front when they need something from me. When there is something they need to take and yet Every single time I give it all away so easily. Without hesitation, I give you a piece Breaking off a piece of my soul that I keep trading as a bargaining chip That I'm hoping you'll take to accept me. But you never even wanted me in the first place. I was only brought here to take up space. My existence is only of interest because thrifting has become a fad. And second-hand goods now make you look trendy. So use me up to make yourself feel more desirable. And return me to this empty space when you're done, leaving me Stale. And musty. Don't worry. I'll clean myself up as usual.

Oh Kay

Search This Blog