By Geoffrey A. Rubin


Weeping willows talk
And haunt a temple of solace.

In a soothing slow voice
Whispers down from heaven.

The power of those not present
Inspires witnessed remembrance of

The silence of the sacrificed
And our own calling on earth.

Every green leaf will fall
For the ripeness is all.

The Zzzzz Train

How can it be
That the subway
From west-four to one-six-eight
Only to make me late!
Sighs of frustration at five-nine
Stragglers tumble at one-two-five
Into silently sleeping souls
But why don’t the doors close!?
The metal beast crawls on course, yet
Wheels, rails and electricity compose
Cacophonous underground music
Which eerily pacifies time
And creates a soothing rhyme.


About the Author:

Geoffrey Rubin is a cardiology fellow and physician writer at Columbia University Medical Center in New York City. His medical narratives, opinion pieces, poems and letters have been published in the New England Journal of Medicine, JAMA Cardiology, Pulse, The Health Care Blog and the New York Times. He completed all medical training at Columbia and lives in Manhattan.