Poetry

It’s okay to rip flowers outand to set fire to vines,to pluck petals off withoutcounting to love meor love me

Build yourself, do not erase it, the instructor says  when she talks about beliefs, that a client’s or patient’s will

Out of place and in fear of showing who I am I am the disgraced Moor who killed the lamb

No one understands what I mean when I say I cried the day I saw your hands I thought I’d

I’ve acquired a condition not spread by microbes nor kin. I feel it spread through my bones and burn into

Forcing myself out of bed at 10:30amand pouring a cup of coffeeour kitchen windows frosted over fromthe bitter November air.I

Poem by Zain Mehdi, Illustration by Sahaana Arumugam

Stephanie Saey explores the juxtaposition between wellness and unwellness in medicine

M2 Nathen Spitz reflects on coming out

Kenzie McKnight’s poem for Coming Out Day