Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Wiggle room was indeed scarce...

it was either DO or DIE...
with PRECISION and DEXTERITY...
as if one were OPERATING on an undulating heart...
one false move....
and it would cease to beat...
it would essentially FLAT LINE....taking no prisoners..
and the burden of TRUTH and LIABILITY would fall, head first,
upon the exhausted shoulders of the defeated surgeon...
as if TRUTH were a ton of bricks....
as if the surgeon were a slave in EGYPT....
Pharaoh would surely SMITE HIM in his path...

and so....
the focus and intent became incessantly more CRITICAL....
as snow fell upon the roof of the MEDICAID facility...
in drifts of OMINOUS quality...
and just beneath the floorboards of the room, a small bird had built a nest...
hoping to shield itself from the elements...
from the cold....
its family had somehow escaped to WARMER PASTURES....
leaving the tiny fledgling to fend for itself...
through the cold winter days...
and it had found refuge....
amongst the ORTHODOX JEWS....
in a building in BROOKLYN.....

IS IT ALL RELATIVE ?

What makes a traumatic situation real and not somehow sensationalized or exaggerated ? What constitutes real trauma ? Is it all relative ? I...