Boston UniversityOpenBU http://open.bu.eduBU Publications WHORL

2011

WHORL: 2011

https://hdl.handle.net/2144/18286Boston University

EDITORS

嶋nya Donahou, BUSM/BUSPH 2013

Shireen Heidari, BUSM 2012

A11ison Peluso, BUSM 2012

Mamta Shah, BUSM 2012

01ga Novikov; BUSM 2013

Ⅹu Xu, BUSM 2013

脇0杭s published by the Creative Arts SoCiety of Boston Universlty

SchooI ofMedicine and is distributed free of charge throughout the

Boston Universlty Medical CanlPuS・

The Creative Arts Society was fomed by BU medical students

to bring the medical center communlty tOgether and create

OPPOrtunities to share works and teach each other’and to pro血Ote

Selfexpression, grOWth’health and fun・ Fvents sponsored by the

Creative Arts Society mClude Art Days and Kick Back Kafe.

All faculty, Staff students and alumni of any schooI or program on

the BU Medical Campus are invited to attend committee meetmgS

and activities’and to submit works for publication in l脇or[

For more information, Please send an e-mail to tanyad@bu・edu.

Cover: Boat Detail

Andreas Dewitz, MD, RDMS

A∬OCiaお堀or〆協er㌘nり′ M揚cine

圏圏回国型弱国匡画題

脇o7/would like to thank the followlng PeOPle for

their support. Without their generous contributions,

this publication would not be possible:

加mE肋m妙MD MPHA∬な奴nt Dean, Ahimi 4解i狗

The Alumni Association

Of Boston Uhiverslty

SchooI of Medicine

Dan A勿みn, B.L.A.

Domenicふ卿nci E易D.

Educational Media Center

BFS Daniels Printers

All work prlnted in脇0杭emains the property of

the artist or autho串II contents copyright 20 1 1

l

音冒

I

NOTHING REV且ALED

And collective dreams

sneak into li鰭s bubble,

then float away

into the steel gray sky

Where Arjun義arrows

and dragon kites

lay waltmg,

Silently

Is it a paradox

that Zeus sits upon a cIoud

Play珊Iy allowmg

this psycho-drama

to un確証

No one dares to dance,

uninterested birds

WatCh an insipid display

Of raindrops upon the roof;

and lightnmg

Strikes the ground,

twICe.

Steve Persad

A∬料奴nt脇m讐er

用ci巌のル勿n梁ment

Bal}uShkds Baggnge

Eagerly pulling my丘ve-year Old face to the

Window I saw my dear babushka standing broad-

Shouldered’uPright’like a soviet glant・ She

Waved her good-bye to my U.S. bound plane.

Four years had passed since rlast saw my grandma・ She

丘nally got on the plane to America・

Baggage mCluded one fnded, brown-handbag and

one case of uncontrolled Parkinsonism.

Small arms I wrapped round my griefstricken mother. Her

tears pourmg down at the sight ofmy grandma re-

duced to a clump offinil tissue, aphasic and

trembling as men rolled her wheelchair towards us.

Magic pink pills helped to fix my weak grandmother・

Basking pain」uee, her face blossomed like flowers but her

neurons rebelled agamSt all medication and

OnCe agam, grandmother wilted and shook.

Doing as told, I helped walk my grandma and

Pain珊Iy watched as her trembling frame stalled like a

truck on the brink of exhaustion from pu11ing an

Obstinate tree with roots丘xed in the ground.

Ⅵlking her, feeding her was JuSt the start・ It was

helping her toilet that broke both our hearts. With her

CIothing all strlPPed and her dignlty Shred, my yOung

innocence lost and resentment was found.

Startmg tO tire from the weight ofmy onus, my

Childish selfcenteredness cIouded my judgment and

SIowed my response to the call ofmy grandmother

into a sauntemg’hesitant crawl・

Parents engulfed by their burgeonmg StOre, With me

rummg the house until they came home late.

Babushka ailed so my chores were abundant. My

friends enJOyed childhood while I fed her juice.

Summer vacation gave me some reprleVe. With my

sma11 cartoon suitcase I went to the beach and I

Wished awful things. Then my mom had to leave heamg

news that my grandma had died in her sleep.

Each day I think about my lack ofeffort to

help my poor grandma with her dauntmg baggage, but

sheis left behind that suitcase oftroubles to be

釧ed by my guilt and my drive to help others.

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The Blue Heron

Within the depICtion

which is this river,

The Blue Heron is composed.

In the movmg WOrld,

1ike the rock which

is his perch,

He must be the stillness.

He knows that

what he needs, Will come.

He must be ready for it.

This mommgS rain runs

o任the slate ofhis back.

He understands, SOmehow

The rain is the river, and

The river is the丘sh, and

The丘sh is himself

Daniel Thomas Moran

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This mommg I Iooked out my blue window

from my bed below; a leafy branch that sways

COuld barely scratch the azure’s endless deep’

though I know the other side is blackest space.

The coIor is so absolutely pure,

no wISP OfcIoud or haze to change the hue・

Should I cut o卸hat branch that interrupts

my perf請rectangle of startling blue?

I know the world is珊I ofrich detail,

that oneness ends when you look through the ・scope;

the cells’the stars’yOur fhends so different are

than what you thought; yet there is always hope

When I awake and look up from below

and see it light my room, my blue window

Daniel Simpson) MD

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●

WOUNDED

FIowers ,

roses maybe,

dying petals

fa11ing nonetheless

and becommg lmPaled

upon the jagged thoms・

Winds

wanton and cold,

a song and a familiar voice

amidst the shoutmg,

flashbacks and memories

amidst the pam・

L ove

so many tlmeS left unsaid,

befriends unsorted dreams

like wetted leaves in the pond,

Sinking

sIowly

tO

the

bottom.

Steve Persad

A∬左放ntル勿m讐er

hci巌のルum脅タment

ト

Embryonica

Search for the Stem Cells

Bradley Phelan, MD

取揚onaγ H物砂

αn助力r R讐enemtiひe M揚cine