Wounded Healers
I recently had the opportunity to attend a good friend's wedding where a freelance poet sat contemplatively in the corner with his typewriter, ready to write poems "on demand." Intrigued by his abilities to speedily create a poem, I sat down and he asked me to give him a topic. Thinking of my current experience in Honduras, I told him, "global health." He then asked me for one thing in my life that had recently been healed, and I said, "a friendship." In an act of introspective determination, he closed his eyes, paused only for a brief moment to collect what seemed like an endless number of ideas, and began typing seamlessly as if the words he were about to put on paper had already been made known to him. Just under a minute later, he tore the small sheet of paper from the typewriter and handed me a poem that read: where do doctors heal? can a doctor heal? within the tough pills swallowed, i wonder how this doctor found the cure to become a better pers...