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ART & MEDICINE

intramorph

This story in verse explores the evolution of a scientist
through his experiences with depression.

By Anna Dar, Medical Student at University of the Incarnate Word School of Osteopathic Medicine

in the family politic life now orthogonal no energy left the strain on my bones and bowels
there exists a code of treatment to life before. from cells to soul, loosed
for your every “problem”– struggling in my silence I am told
exogenous until proven otherwise. numbers bleed in I am the source of my own my fingers once caught
to memories blister under eyes— suffering in a tangle of wringing
when asked what is there are so many eyes that I feel refolded into strength,
“the problem” even when I am alone and the eyes are left to stare. softness.
my words are broken, the eyes speak,
estranged from my mind. my hands free to build
“Everything inside and out in my years on this Earth
at the start there were under waves and on slides We made more eyes and hands life as I
numbers in human eyes to behold: began
put more numbers in my hand, is alright. again
fed me and my home numbers of eyes anew.
What then is the problem?” that feed me back
and did you know I organified:
that numbers necrose? all of these eyes now stare back
know how I have fallen in a gaze of glass the fluidity of my body
number. know not what I feel— like fruit looking down on rotting unearthed
num(b)er. they only see skin. roots. to reveal

like any other life, they have exhausted but the hunger for light I am my own faith.
industry every visible route resides in us all,
disintegrates. of tracing the root
of this pain. and the light did return.
I have learned more than I can say
yet my limbs run from my brain from where does pain project desensitized to probing eyes,
met with faces that beg, when it is not formed I myself looked for listeners.
react, react! within the body?
in my search I found
I remain inert, the snaking feeling of spasms both silenced pain
immovable. from my gut to my throat and silenced hands—
robs me of words—
science, first nature I wonder,
spills freely from me, the sensations mocked is the greater shame
but its warmth is gone. by devices that peer inside me emotion
to view a true bleed. or psychiatry?
the light of God is gone
diagnosis is a recurring a mass unfolding awoke:
if it was ever there. plaguing dream
that failed to find from folds of my brain
God is the end of the vector why food is now a forgotten idea out tumbled feeling,
from my eyes into the sky— that effaces my core. the energy core of memories—

18 San Antonio Medicine • June 2019