Two Poems

Elisha Yin

Physician Assistant


You reminded me
of the early days
the first moments
our calls to action

you reminded me
of scenes I played over in my head
those phone calls lasting hours
absorbing our new reality
of a world forever changed

you reminded me
how we constructed hospitals
inside of our schools
inspiring Hope
while we hurried to Whole Foods
stockpiling canned soups we’d never touch

you reminded me
how forgotten snapshots of FaceTime funerals
enveloped me in pain
weighing me down
we’d barely get through the day

but when you reminded me
you cemented in my mind
that together, we endured
the pain might last but the scars will heal
and then I’ll know I survived

Pulse Check

The doors were shut
between two units
when they’ve always been ajar
two silent guardians
never meant to be closed

the ICU
it was a desert
chilly and white
with sweat and tears flung from faceshields
traveling through the air

and to the left
the first patient I see
has the automated CPR machine strapped to his chest
a device advanced enough to detect heart contractility
pulsating rhythmically for each and every beat

he was our first
and then
it hit me
it happened
it’s arrived
it’s here

the white plastic turtle shell
pushed down on his chest
forcefully rapidly
it brought him back to life
but briefly, just briefly
only when the blood
was forced out
from his heart
to his brain
before he left us
for good.

Author Bio

Elisha Yin is a physician assistant practicing critical care medicine in Cleveland, Ohio. She enjoys reading and writing poetry and recently contributed to the Cleveland Humanities Festival crowdsourced poem, “Preparations for Travel.” Elisha is an avid skier and SUP boarder, who in her free time loves cooking, teaching herself ukulele, and enjoying Lake Erie sunsets with her husband and dog. 

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