UTHSA Poetry

Little Crooked Tree
~ Steven Hlozek, Class of 2023, Long School of Medicine

There are three trees in my view,
Two of them are nothing new,
While both of them are beautiful,
The third is much more unusual,
It leans mostly to the left,
But then juts to the right,
It certainly wouldn’t be described as upright,
I’ve watched it stand through many storms,
With that funny shape, and somewhat tangled form,
Sometimes I wish that it could speak, because if it did,
I know its story would be unique.
There are many taller and straighter trees that stand close by,
But those I don’t often admire, and I don’t know why.
It’s this little crooked tree, off to the side,
That I find myself gazing at, for most of the time.

Poet Note: This poem is about adversity and how it can shape someone. In my time as a nurse and a medical student I have met patients of all ages that collectively inspired me to write this poem. It is about all of them.  I have found that those who have experienced adversity and who are willing to share their stories have the most lasting impacts on those around them. We remember them forever and think about them often. Their stories are fascinating and inspiring, but most importantly we can learn from them.

One morning I was taking a walk in the woods, and I came across the most beautiful tree I have found here in San Antonio. It was not the tallest or most conspicuous of trees, it was actually quite small, but it was magnificent. It was this little crooked tree tucked away in a dark and hidden corner of the woods. It was clear that it had experienced adversity in its environment, but it was thriving. I was instantly inspired to write this poem.

Broken by those who should mend
~ Christine Beshay, Class of 2022, Long School of Medicine

In the ER after punching a wall on her birthday
“Mom didn’t call to wish me a happy birthday, I don’t want to live”.
Foster care is home.
Yearns for a mother’s love, even if from the source of abuse
I tell her of Christ’s love, that she isn’t alone
I pray for her safety.

Poet Note: This poem was inspired by patients. There was a young patient I saw in the emergency department. She was brought in from a foster center after punching her hand through a wall. After spending time with her, I found out that she had done so out of frustration and hurt. Her biological mom hadn’t called her that day to wish her a happy birthday. She talked about wanting to end her life. She said she felt that the only person who cared for her was a boy she had met through the foster system. Unfortunately, her story is not uncommon. Too many children feel unloved, unwanted.

A Root Cause of Youth Homelessness: Breakdown of the Family
~ Emily Sherry, Class of 2022, Long School of Medicine

I asked you a question,
You can say yes or no.
I asked you a question,
“Is there a place for me in the grotto?”

I asked you a question
Expecting “Sure, why not,”
I asked you a question
I’ll be okay if you say no, but with thought.

I asked you a question
You threw our family out to sea.
It wasn’t because of the way you sided, but because now
you treated us like an acquaintance, shying from shared debris.

We met before my world had words
Our road braided with love and with tears,
Countless years growing and laughing,
Plenty of breaking and building, facing our fears.

The premise of a question
Is that you can say yes or no,
But doesn’t our family
Merit more than a carefree veto?

I asked you a question with all the free will—
yes or no, an answer I assumed was irreversible.
Until what you left unsaid met our ears,
until your ambivalence became an arsenal.

I asked you a question, here’s another with plurality:
“If there’s two faces on one coin, where’s the reality?”
We wear the face of family, sworn in from birth to earth,
Then you’re guarded, distant, with decisions of unweighted worth.

I’ve asked you questions.
Since I’m blunt, with intentions in bold print,
Maybe you think I don’t see the walls you draw,
But even if they’re invisible to you, I see their dent.

I haven’t asked you this question:
“I get your brevity with acquaintances, but why distance me?
What do you think would happen if your wall falls?”
Already this attack on the family, set a fire to our tree.

Life is checkered by many quests, with more to come.
Rock paper scissor shoot; one might win, one might lose,
Ride or die; smile if we tie,
Perspective is for each to choose.

I’ve asked myself questions and I found peace,
With humility, life has many surprises.
Realizing that having a home is not a given,
I find respite in God, my spirit rises.

I asked you a question.
Yes or no is binary, but you should believe what you speak.
You know I don’t like “it is what it is,” you know I’ll never ask for a free receipt,
And I pray that you find the vision that you seek.

Poet Note: This poem is inspired by the youth experiencing homelessness who I had the opportunity to know through work and service throughout college and medical school. Their stories illustrate that one of the major causes of homelessness, especially for youth, is the breakdown of family dynamics. I still cannot grasp that we live in a world where people, especially children and youth, live on the streets. However, I hope that this poem is a prayer for the littlest and will illuminate the lived experiences of youth, many who never had a home, many who left because of abusive situations, many who became lost from the loss of family.

 

The Greatest Sculptor
~ Jose M. Garcia, Class of 2024, Long School of Medicine

Life has a very particular sense of humor, it seems to me.
Its contradictory method of teaching us has never ceased to amaze me.

It inoculates resolve by placing us in difficult situations.
It extracts strength we did not even know we had, by unrelentingly pushing our limits.
It reinforces character like a keen sculptor chisels her marble masterpiece,
Because that is what people are: walking pieces of art sculpted by Life herself.

Adversity can be an exceptional opportunity for personal evolution.
We can’t control the cards we were given when we were born:
To what kind of family, to what circumstances, to what neighborhood
But what we can control is our perspective to our life experiences,
To allow ourselves to have a dialogue with Life,
And learn from her everything she has to offer.

PEEL AND CORE
~ Chelsea Wu, Class of 2022, Long School of Medicine

I used to devour pits of peaches
whole
until the enamel of my teeth
broke
into a canvas of slivers
shining
yellow, crooked, and raw,
blooming
blush gums. Burnt into our
skin
is peril, peering over eerie
rails
pretty pearls dissolving into
air
eels swimming like the clatter of
rain
burnt yellow we are, our teeth fall
out.
Little girl, you think your mouth
able
to swallow these pears, to contain history’s
perils
awash in your mother’s arms. She says speak only
when
spoken to, like honeysuckle our mouths are a
trap
so cover them with a mask, and marvel at how we
perish.

Poet Note: The rise of anti-Asian hate spurred on by the COVID-19 pandemic added another layer of stress these past couple of years. When the U.S. finally started to take COVID-19 seriously, I was very anxious about leaving my home, not only because of fear of the virus, but also fear that I would be seen as its perpetrator. I could not hide my Asian face. This poem was an exploration of an often untold Asian American history, perpetuated by a silence exacerbated by the problematic model minority myth and the alienation derived from the politicized yellow peril.