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About my poetry  ↓

"Poems are not just feathers drifting into the Grand Canyon;
they can make a real connection with another mind and heart"
Leisel Mueller, personal communication

My Poetry is about hope and despair; about celebration and sorrow. But mostly, it is about hope. Forms of expression implicit in symbolic language; poetry and verse, song, prayer and ritual, have served a role in all cultures and societies to dispel the tears and foster the healing of death and human loss, suffering and despair. Why does poetry triumph as a source of enduring inspiration and hope?

Though our spirits may fade and our viscera bleed, we are enabled by the agents of our humanity empowered by ancestral song and promise (Berman, 1999)

Comfort may be achieved through the transfer of the poet's feelings into the reader or listener's mind. It transports the reader from the distractions and influences of the outside world inward to the internal rhythms and solace of the personal soul. The poet becomes a healer and his poetry his staff. Through verse and meter, free of inhibition yet full with expression, the poet may articulate a sensitivity and empathy and provoke this introspection and inner peace. A poem is transformed into a message of hope. There is wonderment and magic in the words of a poem. Each word is selected for its individual meaning within the context of the entire poem. A few properly selected words can move the reader to tears and awaken the primal emotions of joy, promise, despair and hope. A poet should evoke emotion in his work and write as if each poem is written with the poet's last words.

The language of poetry, within the broader context of its 'parent body' (literature,) has always had as its great themes, love, loss and death. The inclusion of hope to these thematic elements is worthwhile if not essential for, (as humans) we have the capacity to bring hope to a despair that is uniquely created by our humanity and our human conditions.

As an Obstetrician, my professional career has involved a striving to bring comfort and healing to children, born and yet to born, and to mothers through their years of childbearing and beyond. It has been the cause in my life. I have been uplifted by the triumphs of birth and healing and depressed by the failures. Yet I have always tried to look beyond the failures in search of the triumphs. I have counseled patients at the darkest times of their lives, when their children have died, and I have turned to the comfort of personal reflection, poetry and self-expression to better help me help my patients. I have learned that by writing down thoughts which might elucidate my feelings more clearly than the spoken word, I have become a better physician.

"By making us stop for a moment, poetry gives us an opportunity to think about ourselves as human beings on this planet and what we mean to each other." Rita Dove

"Only those within whose own consciousness the suns rise and set, the leaves burgeon and wither,can be said to be aware of what living is." Joseph Wood Krutch

Some thoughts about caring for the Loss of a pregnancy or newborn
When the outcomes of our patient's pregnancies end in miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death, we struggle to find the right approach to break the news to them, treat them medically and/or surgically, help them recover physically and emotionally, and console them in their grief. Most of us have not been taught to provide this bereavement care. We learn fast that there are hospital nurses and social workers, bereavement counselors and therapists, support groups and religious ministries to whom we can refer our patients for immediate bereavement care and subsequent follow-up. We can do the D and C and we can attend and assist in the birth of the baby who has experienced an intrauterine death. But then, for many Obstetricians, we refer our patients for bereavement care. When we hold in the palm of our hand an 18 week fetus immediately after our patient miscarried or attend the stillbirth of a term pregnancy, our intellectual knowledge and rational thought fade as we struggle to find the right words to say. Unlike the repetition of performing a surgical procedure, no matter how many times we have experienced a loss with our patients, it does not become easier.

Although the stillborn baby which might have been born viable represents the greatest emotional and management challenges, we must recognize any loss in pregnancy as a life-altering event for our patients. The care of the patient experiencing a Pregnancy Loss is a paradigm for what we do as physicians. It tests not only our clinical skills and judgments but stretches the fibers of the human aspect of caring very thin. Although we might ask, "how can we heal when our patients' children are incurable, when they are suffering or when they die or what do we do when the advanced technology that has become a part of our black bag fails", we must understand that we can heal by providing comfort , empathy and hope. As bad as this experience is for our patients, we can make it better. If we remain aware that we are the link between the stillborn baby and the bereaved family, that we were the first to touch and hold their child, albeit their stillborn child, then we can share this with them, remember this with them, and from this point forward, heal with them. The bond we form becomes the unbreakable fiber, which strengthens and indeed cements our role in the doctor-patient relationship.

Selected Poems

Secret Wonders

Born silent, born still,
With the beauty of an angel,
She passed from my waiting hands,
Into the hearts of her parents.
First breath, last breath,
Breathed within
A body full of love;
Youthful, hopeful, anticipating.
Now a body full of sorrow.
Elizabeth: a mother's child,
Embraced by three mothers,
Gave tiny footprints, inked mementos of
What might have been.
Yet as with life itself, we are
Guided by fleeting moments of
Sweetness remembered
And promises dreamed.
The veil of death’s darkness
Will disappear like melting snows
In springtime.
Mercifully, prayers will turn
Cries into song,
Loneliness will fade.
Life will move on.
She has touched us all.
But her death will not harm us,
For she has summoned the secret wonders
Of what means love.
And we have now become her children.


Netzah
(Eternity)

Could I have died so soon,
So soon that my cries
Were silenced in your womb?
So soon that I'll never touch
Your breast nor feel
Your hands caress
My brow?
So soon that you never got
To sigh and cry
Sweet tears of joy,
For your first child,
Your first born boy?
Could I have died so soon?
I suspect not,
For I felt the passion
Of your love around me
As my heartbeats slowed,
Then stopped.
As I lay motionless,
I heard the misery
In your cries that
I would not be born alive
And wondered, why?
Yesterday father, you fathered me.
Today dear mother, you birthed me.
I was there, You were there.
We all stood witness.
I heard your whispers,
That you love me.
I heard you tell each other
How beautiful I was viewed
In my eternal quietude.
I even felt your soft caress
As you held me to your breast.
On this morn, mourn not for me.
With ethereal grace I have a name.
I have a home, I have a life...
To live through all eternity.


I no longer see the stars
I no longer see the stars; I am the stars.
I no longer breathe the wind; I am the wind.
I am the sweet smell of honeysuckle after an
Evening rain.
I am the dew on the rose petals in early
Morning.
I am harmony and I am peace.
I am love.
In sorrow, my mother and father cry,
But they need not fear. For I am strong.
My heart is whole and in union with my soul.
I understand my fate and I smile.
For nature's will is my destiny
And my guide through eternity.



Selected Poetry ↓

Dedication
To my patients and to the Profession of Medicine.

"By making us stop for a moment, poetry gives us an opportunity to think about ourselves as human beings on this planet and what we mean to each other."
Rita Dove
--------------------------------------------
Marquis

When love impales the heart,
a child's heart,
and first breaths bellow,
and his gentle hands
and soul so mellow
beholds the gift of life so dear,
we affirm that what we hear,
resounding cry without thought
or pain or tear,
is his marquis,
his sentinel of
what we do
and why.
And now he claims for us nobility,
this guardian of ancient temples
royalty lusting to comfort;
longing to heal; unsparing in compassion,
leaving with honor and beneficence
his name undying,
a bequest to us who love him
and to our hearts ...forever crying.





---



The Covenant

I am an artisan,
A painter of hues unfading
To blend upon my pallet
Infinite promise
And emblazon on my soul
A landscaped canvas
Stretched to infinity
Between pillars of prayer.

Neither stalked nor
Conspired against am I.
Only Fate has been my betrayer.
And although the defenses
Of my mortal flesh have weakened,
The borders of my body
And the cisterns of my soul
Are strong, alive
With pulses of blood
And liquors of hope.

I will not lament
Nor ask of this from you.
I will not know defeat
Or the wrath of any pain
For I, like a solitary seedling
That yearns to taste the falling rain,
Know well that God's eyes alone
Will shed but triumphant tears...
...Upon my brow for me
And for my covenant of victory.




---



The Gift

"Out of my window the strings of the
harp are struck, Oh, my heart! How is
it so deeply entangled in the echoes!
There is the limitless sound of the trees,
there is the limitless brightness of the moon"


Today the sun cast hues of hope.
Open eyes and grimaces,
Heart beat flutters,
Angel cries.
And then serenity.
A life lived long enough
To taste the sweetness of
A mother's kiss,
A father's kiss;
Caresses and caresses
And whispers,
And kisses again and again.
Blessings, prayers, tears;
Moans of weeping.
Silent moments.
Raging thoughts.
Peaceful thoughts
Which memory's keeping.
No shadows.
Pure light.
Eternal light.
From sun and stars and moon glow.
Save the night of today
When the moon eclipsed, turns umber.
And
She be our gift, forever.



---



Soul

I have born my soul to God, my son.
As he slipped into the crevice of death,
I could not watch nor see his image before me,
But I knew of the perfect beauty of his body
Even when he nestled within me,
For he is loved as a mother loves a son
And no pearl nor ruby nor even diamond
Can light the shards of shattered dreams
More than this love.
Peace will come to me, I know
And my son, my soul,
Will take from each
Of my uncountable tears
Eternal sustenance as he rests
Now in the body of our earth
And learns that what we know
As the saddest sadness
Is but a gate into the mystical
And miraculous wonders of
Tribulation, promise and hope.




---



Eurus

The East Wind, connected with Aurora, the Dawn
"If she is a saint, then her symbol is the Thistle"�

Born with skin as soft as thistle-down,
And tearless cries resounding,
You are of the wind which bellows in our breasts,
A miracle in a world of miracles.
You have severed the doubts of uncertainty,
With vestal vision you bind our hearts in unity
And when we speak of love and peaceful dreaming,
We look at you and see the Fringe of daylight
Streaming into our hearts
Porcelined colors of the dawn.



---



Deeya

In my home, you were my light.
Your blood, my life,.
Your love my love.
In my home all your heartbeats were for me .

And when my heart,
Once a fleet and aflutter
With sonorous marching did now falter,
I had not the wish
To forewarn nor advise.
For I could hear the calling
Of an angel's rhapsody and
From afar see small lights
Marking passage heavenly,
Trailing embered footsteps
To forever guide your thoughts
Of me your child.




---



Words

I know where songs are made
And where simple words are born.
It is in the hearts of dreamers,
And in souls of those who mourn.

With lyric, love and tearful sorrow,
Music comes alive,
Giving death a reason,
Assuring we’ll survive.

And when the music dissipates
And only words remain,
It is the words that last forever,
Soothing sorrow, healing pain.

Words inscribed indelible
In our books for young and old,
Words that open minds as flowers
Whose petals in the spring, unfold.

William has bequeathed to us
Like these words of which I write,
Enduring love and gilded wisdom,
Every minute, hour, day and night.

So read the books and see their words
Enlighten your children’s' minds,
For there is no greater beauty
Than the beauty words define.





---



Even the stars have cried

In solemn silence we walk the woods
beneath the boughs of willows, wailing

In a room of silent tears
You gathered in your sorrow
Hovered , hugged;
Gazed bewildered;
Why I"ll not live tomorrow.

In a room of silent tears;
If I could, I'd cry;
Out loud; To tell
Of this secret moment
Of why today I die.

My lot was cast at this hour,
Which birth and death both share,
Yet understand the sense and reason
God Loves; God calls;
God cares.

I now reside in peace
As you grieve and say goodbye;
Shedding tears with immortal heavens
Yes, even the stars have cried.



---



The Passing Tides

I loved the river:
Enchanting.

I loved the wind:
Caressing.

I loved the daylight:
Soothing.

I loved the starlight:
Haunting.

I loved my ‘dear ones’:
Being.

I am now all that I loved:
Blessing.




---



Tiferet

In prayer we plead return,
And in dream, awaken!
We fall to stare at gleaned grasses
Scattered about forgotten fields,
Singed by a senseless lot,
And thirst to cry forever.

Yet,
We will not be draped
In the blanket of loneliness called solitude.
For deaf of song and absent of vision
Of who we are and who are our children,
Its veil will descend, then disappear.
We are "alive together".

The margin between breath and breathless
Is narrow, like twilight and darkness.
Moments of simple thoughts
Become ageless memories.
There is triumph to taste,
Love to embrace;
Havens of hope to inhabit.

Soon, the curtains of chaos
Will rise with the setting stars
As memories of joy
Bond with joy itself
And we will smile once more,
At last to breathe a painless sigh
Of what is love.




---



Netzah
(Eternity)

Could I have died so soon,
So soon that my cries
Were silenced in your womb?
So soon that I'll never touch
Your breast nor feel
Your hands caress
My brow?
So soon that you never got
To sigh and cry
Sweet tears of joy,
For your first child,
Your first born boy?
Could I have died so soon?
I suspect not,
For I felt the passion
Of your love around me
As my heartbeats slowed,
Then stopped.
As I lay motionless,
I heard the misery
In your cries that
I would not be born alive
And wondered, why?
Yesterday father, you fathered me.
Today dear mother, you birthed me.
I was there, You were there.
We all stood witness.
I heard your whispers,
That you love me.
I heard you tell each other
How beautiful I was viewed
In my eternal quietude.
I even felt your soft caress
As you held me to your breast.
On this morn, mourn not for me.
With ethereal grace I have a name.
I have a home, I have a life...
To live through all eternity.




---



Divus

I loved
the quiet time I spent
when every heart beat
you had sent
to my flesh
and to my skin
flowed forth to bring
me peace within
your silent womb,
...I loved the silent time.
And even as
my tiny heart
labored at death's call
before my start
at birth and life,
and as I ailed,
soon no longer
to inhale
or feel your pulse to mine,
...I loved the quiet time.
My body now
apart from yours,
still lives, yet not
upon your shores,
and suffers not
nor is in pain
for within
its new domain
I can love the quiet time.
...I loved the quiet time.




---



The Mist

When winter's gloom succumbs,
and grief melts in the sun,
warm currents on my breast will stream,
and turn frosted tears to sunbeams...

Sadness moistens my brow like
mist. Silent tears coalesce upon my cheeks.
Petrified by the cold of winter,
Forgotten by the spring thaw,
I shiver and feel lost
in this the season of my sorrow.
Loss has embraced me more than
once, yet it has never seized me.
Hope has been my reclamation,
My emancipation,
From the bondage of despair.
Hope exists in the swelter
Of summer and persists
As the leaves fall in November.
Hope thaws the snows of winter.
Hope does not forget.




---



Butterfly Breaths

Every day awakens
With kisses on your brow;
With mist that veils the early light
And hides the morning clouds.
With butterfly breaths of longer days
Where heard are fewer sighs,
And echoes from a mountain's song,
Dissolving plaintive cries.
No longer will the seasons part
The year; dividing into four.
Now hours blend to days and weeks,
Weeks to months, forever more.
Every day awakens
With visions of what's to be:
Spheres full of joy and wonder,
Timeless moments of Infinity.




---



Obstare

I have stood here before
When birth deceived and
Surrendered to my hands
The very spirit and soul of humanity;
The essence of life, save life itself .
And I have touched before
The angle hair and silken skin;
A child lay bare, still and silent
In these outstretched hands
As my will cried out
To scream a breath of life
Into his pale lips
Now frozen in the mist
Of endless dreams.
Yet today I smile
As I have smiled before,
For from such drear
Comes a voice;
A voice, so serene
That it transforms
The searing pain felt in
Our hearts into song;
Melting stones of sorrow
Into liquors of love,
Forever a memory
of our dear Child.




---



Birth

I have seen the caul
like honey glazed
contain and bathe
in sweet succor,
kept watch as
mother's wombs
tear in pain to
bear their child
and then as if my first,
stood aside and
cried with awe at
the birth, that quiescent harbor
where life sings
psalmic verses
of calms and storms
rains and droughts
sun lights and dark nights,
agendas to live on forever.




---



Aoide

The first song on earth
Was a child's cry,
A canticle of absolute beauty.
Each note a bequest for eternity;
Ageless music of heart-sounds
And first-breath sighs
To immortalize
The promise of humankind.




---



Vernalis
Belonging to the Spring

Undaunted, I greet the paradox of spring.
I dream …of golden notes
Floating in the silent night.
Joys of breaths and heartbeats
Simple passions of delight
Sing on winds diaphanous,
Of the glory of the bloom
Which never disappointing,
Soon, bathes all beloved
With perfect hope.
It is the season of opulence
When sweetness obscures
Dark halls of winter's liar
And dew upon the grasses
Cast light of morning's hour
Into the windows of the soul
Where fragments of loveliness…
Of love, coalesce
Into being,
Magnificence.




---



Martyr for Desire
for all children, lost

You are my quiet darling.
Your eyes, like morning burn
The minutes of futility
To contrite hours, turn
Eastward where begins the dance
Of ocean tides, and slumbers still
The famine of our grief, to hide
So deep within my wounded will.
A promise, poisoned from the start
So brief without reply or song
Did graze your spirit in my field.
"Return to me" I cry, I long.
As chaos prods my anguish, yet
Neglecting fortunes in my soul,
Tinted hues of destiny
Are tender thoughts which sorrow stole
From me when first I heard your voice;
Each murmur on your breath that sang
Like harps converging as a choir,
And chimes afar, with passion, rang.
You are my quiet darling
Within a cold and flame-less fire,
And I, a prism in the shadows;
A silent martyr for desire.




---



Spire

From oblivion to infinity
without origin or finality,
our minds petrify like fossils
ancestral passions
to consummate all life's promises,
while above us wind-songs cleave
one cloud in two,
two to four, four to eight
and create
infinite dispersions
so we may see
stars flicker,
moonbeams' shadow
sentinels for sunlight's travel,
...and watchtowers for the treasures
of eternal hope.




---



Promised Light

I have shed my garments and
With calloused feet walk naked
Into the straw meadows of the dark.

My sustenance though vaporized
Floats like the clouds,
Glisters like the stars.

And as I search and cry in fear
I glance into the blackened sky
To see droplets now appear

Like diamonds from our sacred earth
That burnish in this darkest night
To become dreams of promised light.




---



The Stones and The Sand

There is not much our lives to long
but breath the air, hear a song,
walk beneath some sapling pines
search a dream, slow the time,
See truths distant horizons hide
float on waves at even-tide,



You touch my golden hair
With silken fingers
and hands afire with
Embers of love.

Like earthen stones
And sea-born sand
You are the infinite
Minerals of my life.

With you,
I am the mountains,
The forests and the seas.

With you
I have foundation,
Elements, for my being.

Every breath I breath
is for you,
And you, for me.

For always...
my dearests. my family.




---



The Means

The Existence of virtue
depends entirely upon its use�
Cicero

My friend.
Our Integrity is measured
Not by the expense of time
But by its means:
How we live,
Whom we love,
What we sense and feel.

Fueled by spirit,
Kindled by reason,
We assume a purpose.

Furrows of our palms
Map our travail;
Fingers, its instruments,
Voice its praise.

Traversing age of years,
We are valued by our deeds.
And our prosperity becomes
The reward of our virtues.




---



Reminisci

Naked are our thoughts,
Our souls are crying..
We are your voices,
Denying,
Sorrow’s silence.
For as we speak, alas,
We sing;
And proclaim to all
Our love for You
And from you the love
You bring.




---



Amare

Forlorn, with tears
And cries, am I.
To lose you to your death
Without but even gasp or sigh,
Save a wisp of Angels breath;
…the darkest sorrow
I have known. Yet,
Your image burnt in my
Soul is my gift, my grace,
And always will I see your face
Upon the simmer of
Placid ponds
And in the clouds where
Sunbeams hide
And raindrops form,
…And I will speak kind words
And write of you
And sing in sweet demure,
In early morning's dew
And in the crown of daffodils
Which bloom amidst the storms
Swept cross my brow,
In every dream
In which it seems
You come to me.
My love forever
Do I avow.




---



Saline

I grasped his strong hand
weeping edema beneath
mottled skin and
pulsed coded messages.
Then with a kiss
placed gently upon his brow,
withdrew, and said good-bye.
Around us, aprons of sand
embroidered shores of saline oceans.
Inland, grasses wove their tapestries.
Grains, blades and salted pools mingle;
reservoirs for creation,
repositories for death.
Silent is our
morning's song,
lost our morning's glory.
The grasses, stilled by quiet winds sleep
day-long now. Rays of crimson sunbeams
like thorns, pierce
the clouds of our despair
as our dissonant cries fade
into nothingness.




---



Aoede
In Greek mythology, Aoede
was the muse of song

The first song on earth
was a child's cry,
ageless music of heart-sounds
and first-breath sighs
to immortalize
the promise of humankind,
and insist our hope...
for children everywhere
to dance
and laugh aloud
and sing
on winds diaphanous
and to bring
us sanguine visions
that melt the frosted tears of winter's cry,
and beget once more the songs we love
from every child's first-breath sigh.

The knowledge and images of innocent children in war-ravaged cities and countries inspired me to write and dedicate this poem to "the child", with a New Year hope for safety, peace, love and health for all children, world-wide. (January 1, 2017)





---



Memnon

My tears are watermarks
Which imprint forever
Sentient reminders of gentle hopes
And dreams subdued.
Extant in painful thought they are
And sleep afar
In caves of ancient echoes
Wailing for my perished child
Who now guised in angel's silk
Sings madrigals of sweet delight
And turns my tears heavenward
To drift peacefully into the
Forgiving canyons of winter’s night.

Memnon, the son of Eos, Goddess of Dawn, who mourned his death by weeping every morning.




---



Egeria

Today, the harvest is behind us
Yet as much, it lies ahead.

We plant our seeds even as the icy sun
Strains to warm the earth.
We prepare. We are sure the
Brilliance of the blossom will come to be
And the scent of the lilac tree
Will penetrate the early mist
of springtime once again
And we watch and turn a smile;
watch as ponds and serpentine streams,
Relentless in their ebb and flow,
Carve channels of ancient thoughts and dreams
Like fossilized intaglio

And should we travel on northern trails
And western peaks and pastel fields
And sense the scents of daffodils
And the melodies of songbirds,
We will revel in the excesses of the heart;
The splendor of the day;
The quietude at night;
Among countless raindrops on countless petals,
And sunrises splashed in pink and white.

Yes, today, the harvest is behind us
Yet as much, it lies ahead.



---



Sean  

The moon's thin crescent   
casts dim spears  
of speckled light upon the  
path I walked this night  
with your hands in mine.  
And although darkness  
hovers close above our bodies,  
warmed with dew's sweet tears,  
you turn you eyes to mine  
to see the embers shine  
and burn to ash all despair  
within the abyss of my soul  
and praise tomorrow's scented air   
I breath, for now my body's whole.  
1994  

For a brave young boy who went through successful   
neurosurgery.   
  



---



The Morning Dove  

By reason unexplained   
came the wrath of nature's  
will and pain upon an olive tree,  
to cleave unequal its fair soul  
and hurl each fracture into  
stormy destiny. And as time  
and hope and prayer  
within an earthen womb  
nurtured tendril branches  
where buds and blossoms bloom,  
I cried, for I was first to  
see a morning dove bear a  leaflet  
in the Spring and fly  
homewards... for eternity.  
1994  
                For a mother and newborn both critically ill at birth   
                but in time were healed.  The newborn, Jacob, was   
                delivered at twenty four weeks gestation and weighed   
                one   and one half pounds at birth.  I witnessed his growth   
                to   four  pounds when he left the hospital for home.  





---



Sorrow Fades
  
Your cries sing of    
past sorrows,  
Sing no songs for me.  
For my heart lusts to  
live... tomorrow, And my  
soul longs to be free.  
No longer will angst   
befall you  
When at my birth you hear  
The cries I sing of life anew,  
And you kiss away my tears.  

1994  
  



---



The Tree  

Be free  
Imprisoned one,  
Last remains  
Of a fallen tree  
Fractured by an  
August storm,  
Sapped and devoured,  
Hollowed from decay,  
Destitute of life's  
Precious humors.  
Debris encrusts your  
Body like a death shroud,  
Yet the poet knows your  
spirit,  
The artist your beauty.  
Be free.  

1993  
  
  



---



Sonnet of Faith 
 
Appareled in a veil of grace,  
Angst and despair showed its face.  
Yet from your eyes a gleam did shine,   
A hint of nature's grand design.  
To teach us all that we must cope,  
And never lose our faith and hope.   
That all things bad and all things sad  
Will be eclipsed by what makes us glad:  
Love and trust in one another.   
Wholesome values as father, mother.   
Embracing our children sweet and fair,  
Holding their hands, combing their hair.  
These are the flames that within us burn,   
The passions strong for which we yearn.  
So while today  your loss brings drear,  
The morrow's sunshine will again appear.  

1992  
               
Written for a young couple who underwent a   
termination of pregnancy for a lethal genetic   
anomaly. They had a wonderful understanding of   
each other and a devotion to their three old daughter   
that allowed them to face their bereavement with   
strength and hope.   
  



---



Amaurot  

 "All we know  
  Of what they do above,  
  Is that they happy are,  
  and that they love."  
           Edmund Waller  

If I could wish myself a dream,  
It would be to retreat for a lifetime and hide   
From a  world of unjust suffering   
Where mankind's afflictions and pains reside.  
I'd labor to quarry limestone and granite  
To fashion for my very own  
A sanctuary to spend infinite years;  
Eternity would now be my home.  
I'd cultivate gardens of forsythia and violets,  
Plant olive trees and harvest grains;   
Grow apple orchards and  grape vineyards,  
From their full bounty would I be sustained.  
Of lyres and harps there'd come splendid music,   
Beautiful children would dance and be gay.  
Sadness and crying would never bear witness,   
Illness and sorrow would remain far away.  
You'd be the first to visit my home,  
Sweet child whose  earthly life has been taken.   
For here you would live and love and be blessed,   
With God at your side, your eternal beacon.  

1993 
 
Amaurot is the fictional capital of Utopia.  I wrote this   
poem in memory of a child  born with a most   
devastating birth defect and died shortly after birth.  I   
dedicate this poem to all children who have died.  
  



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Silence  

No longer do I fear my death,  
For my weakened body now reborn,  
Will witness every dawn of every morn   
That is yet to cast itself upon  
The remnants of my past.  
And thus the light above me now,  
With rays aglow in silent symmetry,  
Will forever shine far into that eternity   
Where I will be  
At peace.  

1990  
  
  





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Sidney  

Clothed in winter's vale of lace,   
Stands an aged tree.   
Awaiting springtime's youthful face,   
To birth its hues of green.  
Yet here upon this winter eve,  
A birth did not await.  
A daughter whom from love conceived,   
Born pure and delicate.  
Her father's hands were first to touch,  
This soft and graceful form.  
A special being to love so much,  
And rejoice with each new morn.  
So as the snow drapes on the boughs,   
Of olden elms and oaks.   
Know well this child of winter now,  
Is blessed with spring's new hopes.  
1993  
                After having a pregnancy loss,  this mother   
                conceived.    She went into labor at home and did not   
                have time to get to the hospital.  Her husband   
                delivered his daughter Sydney  by himself at home



---



Futility 
 
With  caring hands he touches mine,   
And tells of my lost dreams.   
Melancholy surrounds me.  
No longer lives the love   
Which I've proclaimed.  
No longer lives the dream  
My mind has seen as  
Misfortune  now comes to my  
Heart where only Joy should  
Rest.  
   
1989  
                This young women just endured her third consecutive,   
                unexplained pregnancy loss.  
  
  





---



Dawn 
 
The body in anguish to create,  
And the soul, cry out for birth.  
Then, you're born; not yet of age  
But whole. You cannot speak but your  
Cries are heard as your mother
Wipes her tears and smiles.  

1989  
                After many years of infertility and pregnancy   
                losses, Dawn   was born.  Her birth was complicated by   
                premature labor and fetal distress, and she was born   
                emergently by Cesarean section.  She weighed but   
                four pounds at birth.  



---



Betrayed  

Liquor about my child   
Entombed,   
confined within  
My faltered womb  
How you betrayed all my  
Life's hope.  
Yet it is hope  
That will befriend and bath   
her primal soul  
With sweetness to  
Eternity's end.  
1994  
                All too often a mother will have a disorder of the   
                amniotic fluid  leading to Perinatal loss.  These   
                unexpected and disastrous events led  me to write these   
                lines.   
  
  
  

  



---



Brook  

Summer breezes sway the poplar,  
As I walk the banks with my new daughter.  
Recalling summers spent in sorrow,  
In fear I'll forever walk without her.  
But through the seasons of this year,   
New hope was born, without that fear;   
My body pregnant, filled with life;  
No more sadness, no more strife.  
And in awe, my eyes did see  
Her image as she was born of me;  
Ruby cheeks, down-like hair,  
Eyes aglow, skin so fair.  
Thus I turn to thoughts of Summer,  
When breezes blow and sway the poplar   
When I walk and talk and look  
At my beloved daughter, Brooke.  

1990  
                This mother had multiple pregnancy losses and no   
                living children. She was at very high risk for another   
                loss, but delivered Brook, healthy and beautiful.  



---



Birth 

I have seen the caul 
like honey glazed 
contain and bathe 
in sweet succor, 
kept watch as 
mother's wombs 
tear in pain to 
bear their child 
and then 
as if my first, 
stood aside and 
cried with awe at 
the birth, 
that quiescent harbor 
where life sings 
psalmic verses 
of calms and storms 
rains and draughts 
sun lights and dark nights, 
agendas to live on  forever. 

1993 

This states best as I can the overwhelming emotion I feel,  day by day as  I attend births. 
 
 



---



Andira
 
Beneath their feet the parched leaves crack. 
Lifeless, fallen branches fracture.  
Wearily fathers hunt and search 
To mend the pains of endless thirst. 
A mother cradles to her chest, 
The newborn child upon her breast, 
And while gazing towards the cloudless sky. 
Asks why be born if now to die? 
Wasted by their arid land, 
Children beg with outstretched hand  
Their feeble voices impotent, 
To cry; A Death-Watch all too silent.  
Hunger cries but finds no ears, 
None to help their doleful tears.  
Impoverished people bearing sorrow.  
Starved today; entombed tomorrow. 

1993 
                                    
Andira  is a genus of tropical tree found in Africa   known as a "rain tree". This poem is written in memory of all children who have died and are dying from the ugliness of starvation. 
 
 
 



---



Aoide 

The first song on earth 
Was a child's cry, 
A canticle of absolute beauty. 
Each note a bequest for eternity; Ageless 
music of heartsounds 
And first-breath sighs 
To immortalize 
The promise of humankind. 

1993 

Aoide  is the Greek Muse of Song.  These lines are  a dedication to the labor and delivery suite of Yale- New Haven Hospital where I practice. 



---



Personal Thoughts

There is a need to instill a sense of how important our influence and presence is to our patients when they experience their losses. As physicians, we must formulate an approach which will permit us to provide our patients the comfort and hope they require and should expect from us. I believe we must grasp and understand our own feelings to better serve our patients: we must serve our patients though both science and humanism. By becoming more introspective and more emotionally involved in what we are doing, our compassion will become evident and our patients will benefit. Technology indeed provides better diagnostic and therapeutic medical care, but as more technology is developed and utilized, health professionals may become more reliant on that technology and less on their interpersonal skills. They will have to learn –or relearn- and practice the traditional art of medicine, of listening and talking to patients, holding their hands, being at their bed side, while complementing the use of modern technology and advanced science. We as physicians must assure that the benefits of these technologies are fully realized but that their expanding sphere of influence does not disenfranchise the patient nor de-personalize the physician-patient relationship.



---



Personal Thoughts

Inherent in what defines the physician-patient partnership is an unfaltering responsibility of the physician and an unconditional trust of the physician by the patient. Together these bond the chasm between the vulnerable patient and the knowledge and experience of the physician; a synergy of the need for care and the privilege of caring. I believe the medical professional at all levels must step back from each moment in his/her patient care routine, and reflect on what he or she is doing, why it is being done and what influence it is having on their patient’s lives. This self-reflection is integral to professionalism for it encourages the formation of a philosophy of care and ethic of practice, which in turns fosters self-examination and meaning, empathy and compassion.



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Ephemeris Project ↓
It has been postulated that an individualized, humanistic and mindful approach to patient care can not only serve a healthcare provider�s patients with compassionate and holistic healthcare, but equally, a safer approach to the care of the patient. Much attention has been given to the introduction of a humanistic curriculum into undergraduate medical education, yet it has been demonstrated that such humanistic and idealistic influences fade as medical students transition into their house staff roles and beyond. In an age of advanced medical technologies, the Ephemeris Project promotes and provides a venue of introspection and self-expression among healthcare professional students ( and all others in health professions ) helping them participate in effective and compassionate care of their patients. Today�s healthcare students must learn to balance the science of biomedical research and advanced medical technologies with the ethical implications and effects of such science on the patient and in particular on the physician-patient relationship. The implementation of tomorrow�s technologies will require healthcare professionals to have an ethic-centered view of these technologies, cognizant of their science yet imbued with an appreciation of the enormous humanistic value inherent at their core. This is a most promising time to become a health care professional for we have in our immediate future enormous promise in human genomics, cancer therapies and other capabilities of advanced medical technologies. What I believe is needed is to assure that the benefits of these technologies are fully realized and that their expanding sphere of influence does not disenfranchise the patient nor depersonalize the physician-patient relationship. The inclusion and assimilation of art, literature, poetry, bioethics, law, thanatology, theology and at its core, humanism, into the education of graduate medical professionals should help them appreciate that their life�s work is truly one of privileged human relationships. Frequent re-enforcement and renewal of these feelings is necessary. The Ephemeris Project ( http://ephemerisproject.com ) named after the Latin word for journal or diary, is a program to promote and provide a venue of introspection and self-expression among medical students, physicians-in-training, and other healthcare professionals to better serve them to participate in effective and compassionate care of their patients. The Ephemeris Project is an Internet-facilitated BLOG intended to preserve humanism, values and ethics fundamental to the Healthcare Professional Student. The Ephemeris Project provides a substantive Web-based portal, database and 24/7 email support / advocacy for Healthcare Professionals. Its platform provides a user-friendly, anonymous Public online journal which is entered on the website where House Staff / Students and other Healthcare Professionals can publicly journal and share their stories, feelings and experiences. All public journal entries will be monitored and moderated / mentored and inappropriate or contentious entries will be immediately deleted.) Through the Maternl Search Portal, Links to publicly accessible commentaries and writings from leaders in the field of the History of Medicine, Biomedical Ethics, End-of-Life care, Philosophy and Literature complement the program. There is great virtue and privilege of being a physician ( or other health professional) and a need and importance for constant introspection in order to help maintain the course of idealism, expectations and passion present when students began their professional studies.



Awards ↓

2019-United Hospital Foundation Award for Quality and Patient Safety, New York, New York
2016 Inaugural Fellow of the Dyson College Center for Global Psychology, Pace University
2016 New York State Perinatal Quality Collaborative (NYSPQC) Obstetrical Improvement Project
2015 Quality Improvement Award Mount Sinai Beth Israel Hospital
2016 Awarded Fellow, Academy for Medicine and the Humanities, Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai
2015 Nominee from Mount Sinai Beth Israel Hospital for the Press Ganey Physician of the Year Award which “recognizes a physician who demonstrates exceptional leadership and who has realized tangible success improving the patient experience, reducing patient and caregiver suffering and who promotes compassionate connected care in their organization.”
2015 Honorable Mention, Physicians Writers Award Competition, Medical Economics o 2015
Compassionate Care Award, Hope After Loss Foundation
2013 Recognition Award/Grant by the NYSPFP/New York State Perinatal Quality Collaborative Obstetrical Improvement Project aimed at reducing early elective deliveries (EEDs)
2012, 2011, 2010, 2005, Named a “Top Doctor in Connecticut” by peer review, Connecticut Magazine
2008 Nominated, Tech Museum Award Competition
2006, 2007, C. Lee Buxton Teaching Award, Department of Obstetrics, Gynecology and Reproductive Sciences, Yale University School of Medicine
June, 2005, Nomination, Leonard Tow Humanism in Medicine Award, presented by the Arnold P. Gold Foundation
2003, 2005, 2006 Juried Presenter, World Congress on the Internet in Medicine, Mednet
2004  Nominated Tech Museum Award
Finalist: Stockholm Challenge, 2001, 2002-A competition for IT programs that address the “Digital Divide”, Stockholm, Sweden
2003 Finalist, Fleet Small Business Award Program
2003 Finalist, Time Inc. Medical Media Awards
2000 APOG Teaching Award -Association of Professors of Obstetrics and Gynecology-(Awarded by the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology, Yale University School of Medicine)
Distinguished Alumnus Achievement Award in the Natural Sciences, Temple University, 1996
Merit Award, March of Dimes-National Foundation for Birth Defects, 1970



Personal Original Publications ↓


1. Poetry: Comforting Through Time-Excerpt from Parenthood Lost
 



Though our spirits may fade and our viscera bleed, we are enabled
by the agents of our humanity empowered by ancestral song and promise.
 
        A child is not expected to die before his or her parents.  The natural processes of birth, life and death should follow in an orderly and rational sequence  through one’s lifetime.  Any death other than one from old-age after a rich and fulfilling life is premature.  Yet when parents see their child die, or carry the burden of an unborn demise, they live with this disruption of natural order forever. The value placed on the unborn and newly born has differed through generations and periods in human history,  yet as value systems and moral codes evolved, in spite of rhetoric and practices of populations with regards to infanticide and population control, the profundity of a parent's grief has remained incontrovertible through the ages.   There has not been nor is there now one common and standardized way to manage the recovery from such grief, for it’s shadow has been and will be indelibly imprinted in the minds and souls of these parents.  Yet forms of expression implicit in symbolic language; poetry and verse, song, prayer and ritual, have served a role in all cultures and societies to dispel the tears and foster the healing of death and human loss.^[1]   Adult funeral services can talk of the accomplishments of the deceased, and describe joys and loves and relationships through eulogies and memories.  Yet when a newborn or young child dies or a child is not born alive, there is no personal history, seldom a long-standing relationship, few accomplishments and barely a discernible personality to recount.  However, a bond between mother and father and child or expectant child occurs and must be recognized.  Death tears this apart. The issues of mourning, of lost promises, of sadness and above all, of maintaining faith must be addressed.
        Why poetry? What forces are implicit in its form and function that move us and arouse our most inner yearnings and emotions?  Why does the poetry of death triumph as a source of enduring inspiration and hope?
 
“…Poetry{sic}gives the patient a voice for his or her suffering. It may not alter the activity of the disease, but in merely providing a voice it comforts the patient in ways that no medication can.^[2] 
 
If “ medicine protects life then(sic) literature interprets it.”^[3] 
 
 "Art, poetry(sic) is human intelligence playing over the natural scene, ingeniously affecting it toward the fulfillment of human purpose."^[4]
 
"The Poet's gift… awakens in a special way the emotions of those who feel wordless in the face of loss."^[5]
 
"By making us stop for a moment, poetry gives us an opportunity to think about ourselves as human beings on this planet and what we mean to each other." ^[6]
 
        Comfort may be achieved through the transfer of the poet's feelings into the reader or listener's mind. It transports the reader from the distractions and influences of the outside world inward to the internal rhythms and solace of the personal soul.  The poet becomes a healer and his poetry his staff. Through verse and meter, free of inhibition yet full with expression, the poet may articulate a sensitivity and empathy and provoke this introspection and inner peace.  A poem is transformed into a message of hope. There is wonderment and magic in the words of a poem.  Each word is selected for its individual meaning within the context of the entire poem.  A few properly selected words can move the reader to tears and awaken the primal emotions of joy, promise, despair and hope.  A poet should evoke emotion in his work and write as if each poem is written with the poet’s last words.^[7]
        The language of poetry, within the broader context of its 'parent body’ (literature,) has always had as its great themes, love, loss and death.^[8]  The inclusion of hope to these thematic elements is worthwhile if not essential for, (as humans) we have the capacity to bring hope to a despair that is uniquely created by our humanity and our human conditions.
 
        Bereavement over the loss of a pregnancy, newborn or young child is as old as mankind.  My search into the origins of the use of a poem’s graceful yet penetrating ability to soothe, into the essence of what its fragile words can create through symbolism, metaphor and rhythm^[9] has led me to the portal of pre-civilization, more than 35,000 years ago.  Here began this understanding of the primitive, even primal urges for solace and consolation for grieving parents.
"In the dust where we have buried the silent races...
we have buried so much of the delicate magic of life."^[10]
 
        Human culture from which we are today descended emerged between 35,000 years and 32,000 years ago (BP-before the present) within an archeological period known as the upper Paleolithic or late Ice Age. This was marked by the biological evolution of modern human beings, sub-species Homo sapiens sapiens.  With this evolution into modernity from the Mousterian Period ^[11] and from our ancestral Neanderthal species, Homo sapiens neanderthalensis (100,000 and 35,000 years BP) came a "cultural explosion” marked by “symbolic behavior and language and the capacity to imagine.” ^[12]  (It is of interest to note that even prior to this period of “modernity” (80,000-50,000 BP), there is archeological evidence of  “purposeful and ritualized” burials.  Such activity demonstrated that the Neanderthal Mousterians were able to conceptualize death in such a way as to establish conventions to deal with death’s disruptive forces and externalize the emotional responses to it^[13]. This “cultural coding”^[14] is not dissimilar from what has been described of poetry today.  With poetry "the world of external reality recedes and the world of instinct, the effective emotional linkage behind the words, rises to the view and becomes the world of reality.”^[15]  Primative humans needed to survive the perils of their environment before they could learn to "live beautifully or create beautiful things."^[16]  However, a "primitive imagination flourished in the midst of this peril"^[17] and out of their concern for their physical suffering and disability, they developed religious rites which focused upon the origins of their disease and pain.  Their sickbed became their cradle of religious myths and superstitions. The fear of death invoked many of these rituals and burial customs in order to repel the spirits of the deceased.^[18]  Yet from from such thought also developed behavior, rituals and symbols to safeguard the females from the perils of childbirth and memorialize their dead children.^[19] One might consider that these death rituals of the Moustarians were the precursors to our contemporary poetry and prayers of grieving although no written record exists which could prove this hypothesis.
        Remains of a  Neanderthal child were found in Siberia.  The grave was surrounded by goat horns, deliberately placed in a symbolic pattern which demonstrated a very early expression of "animistic beliefs" that nature is personal and filled with the spirits which behave like human beings.^[20]
        Caves at Shanidar, in Northeastern Iraq, were a rich source of Neanderthal excavations.  This region of the world was considered by some to be the cradle of mankind and  there was found was evidence of purposeful burials including the inclusion of small, brightly colored wildflowers. The remains of the Shanidar Man was found on a bed  of woven, pinelike woody branches.  Within the soil were discovered pollen from several non-indiginous flowers such as grape hyacinth, hollyhock and yellow flowering groundsel. This has been 'poetically' interpreted as evidence for the capacity for ‘human feelings’ in pre-human species.  The inhabitants of Shanidar buried their dead among natures beautiful foliage after searching "the mountainside in the mournful task of collecting flowers"^[21].  One might imagine the recitation of a psalm or song, prayer or poem in the manner which we inter our loved ones today into the death rituals of the Neanderthal's as they buried their dead children accompanied by the natural beauty of wildflowers.
        This culture of the newly evolving Homo sapiens sapiens brought with it the cerebral attributes of  “knowledge, belief, art, morals, custom and …other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society.”^[22]  A system of values developed along with the establishment of a moral code, and the value placed on fertility and birth in this period was among the most revered.   This is well documented by the abundant discoveries of fertility rituals and symbols, displayed in cave drawings and portable art (pottery, stones, etc.).  Birth, life, fertility and transformation into death (regeneration), akin to the cycles of nature, predominate in Paleolithic and Neolithic images, and are particularly thematic in the image of the goddess and the symbolism contained within her language.^[23]  Richly painted artifacts displayed with a wonderment of color and images have been found, emblazoned with their depiction of life.  The goddess in all her manifestations was a symbol of the unity of all life in nature.^[24]  This makes us believe that the loss of a child whether in-utero or shortly thereafter was a great loss and evoked a grief response and need which are evident through modernity.  The enduring beliefs of fertility, sterility and "the fragility of life” are rooted to these neolithic, agricultural populations.^[25]   The egg, symbolic of birth and rebirth, was among the most ubiquitous symbols during this era.  Its form abounds on vases and frescos of prehistoric periods.^[26]
        Discovery of wind instruments in Southern France some 32000 years ago and the finding of small objects with parallel markings were early evidence of rythmic arrangements and interval scales (Chatelperronian Period-35000-30000). Furthermore, evidence of recurrent patterns and structures of Magdalenian period (18,000-11000 BP) showed complex conceptualizations consistent with oral communication and development^[27].  From this we might infer that symbolic representations recorded as a primitive language along with the use of rhythm and music may be considered ancestral to the emotional responses inherent in what we consider poetry today.
        The Chinchorro people of ancient Chile lived from 7000 BC to 5000 BC.  They revered their dead, particularly their children and their stillborn, and they put special effort in funerary rites and preservation by mummification.  The process of such mummification is beyond the scope of our discussion, but the Chinchorro’s commitment to this process was evident by this purposeful, artifical mummification, turning the simple body of a dead child into a complex work of art.^[28]  Generally, artificial mumification of dead children and fetuses was rare, for many primative cultures did not consider them full members of society, yet it is evident this was not true for the Chinchorro indians.  The Chinchorro’s had no written language, and an accurate account of their rituals is not possible. The mummification process of the Chinchorro's was performed with the intent to preserve indefinitely the dead for an "afterlife and ancestral worship."^[29]  Chinchorro mummies were buried with food and implements for the afterlife. With the effort expended in this process of mummification, one is led to believe that great value was placed on the lives and therefore the deaths of these fetuses and children.^[30]
        The development of written language documented the rites and rituals which were celebrated upon the death of a child.  Much has been written and studied of the Egyptian funeary practices of mummification.  Their belief in life after death defined different spheres of a post mortum existence.  Their spiritual being flurished after death.              Early in the Egyptian civilization, the Egyptians planted their dead adults and children beneath the desert sand.  When they were exhumed, intentially or by wild animals, their bodies were discovered in a state of natural mummification, dessicated by the sun before they had began to decompose.   Artifical mummification is a purposeful dessicating or drying process. The Egyptian's further utilized oils and wrapped the bodies to provide clothing. Funerary texts descibing the relationships between the deceased and the gods were receited during the embalming and entombing. Such text, a collection of magic spells and formulas, hymns and prayers, was written on papyrus, bound together and collectively called The Egyptian Book of the Dead.  It was thought that recitation of this text by the deceased at time of their death and entombing assured their glorification in an afterlife.  It began to appear in Egyptian tombs around 1600 BC.  The text was intended to be spoken by the deceased during their journey into the underworld, enabling the deceased to overcome obstacles in the afterlife.   One pertinent allusion contained in the Egyptian Book of the Dead was to Hathor, the goddess of joy, motherhood, and love. She was rendered the "protectress of pregnant women", a midwife, a fertility goddess and the patron of all women.   She welcomed the arrival of the deceased to the underworld, dispensing water to the souls of the dead from the branches of a sycamore and offering them food. "Hathor was also represented as a cow suckling the soul of the dead, thus giving them sustenance during their mummification, their journey to the judgement hall, and the weighing of their soul."  In later periods, dead women identified themselves with Hathor.^[31] 
        To better understand the use of poetics in the Egyptian Book of the the Dead, I cite the following which was recited to secure for the deceased the affection of men, gods, and the Spirit-souls.
 
O my father Osiris, thou hast done for me that which thy father Ra did for thee. Let me abide upon the earth permanently. Let me keep possession of my throne. Let my heir be strong. Let my tomb, and my friends who are upon the earth, flourish. Let my enemies be given over to destruction, and to the shackles of the goddess Serq. I am thy son. Ra is my father. On me likewise thou hast conferred life, strength, and health. Horus is established upon his tomb. Grant thou that the days of my life may come unto worship and honour. ^[32]
 
 
        Ancient Greek and Roman cultures held diverse and sometimes conflicting attitudes with regards to the values placed on the worth of a child or a fetus. This is well documented, for their culture was rich in literature and in particular poetics.   Pregnant women in ancient Rome made a sacrafice of flowers to the goddess Juno, who was thought to have the power to prevent miscarriages.^[33] 
 
        Yet the paradox of infanticide or “exposure” existed, not only for ‘defective’ newborns but also for healthy ones. Infanticide, an old and almost universal custom was commonly practiced in imperial Rome by Pegan worshippers for reasons of poverty, vanity, malformations, population control  and other less defined social reasons. Many newborns-mostly female- were brought to the columns in Rome and left to perish.^[34]   It was felt by some that humanity was not endowed or given at birth and a higher value was placed on an ability to contribute rather than the inherent value of just being human^[35], and that failure to contribute rendered man "worthless".  Likewise, children, according to the Greek philosopher, Aristotle were considered natural slaves of limited potential.^[36]  Plato and Aristotle accepted the morality of exposed infants and supposed that “value” and worth is not intrinsic but acquired.^[37]  The third century writer, Heliodorus, likewise felt, contrary to these ancient classical values,  that it was not permissible to disregard an “imperiled soul” once it has taken on human form^[38].  Within the early centuries of the Roman Empire, inspired by Constantine, there developed  a growing humanitarianism, a medical ethic of respect for human life,  which condemned abortion and active euthanasia. Christians held that "the immortal soul rested in the unborn fetus as truely as in the newborn"^[39] and revered and mourned their death. Thus, flourished a sentiment of altruism and philanthropy with regards to the value of a person and thus a capacity for compassion.
        Subsequent to the primative and ancient times, there has been shown reverence for the fetus and newborn accompanied by the appropriate processes of bereavement , yet there has also been irreverence; contrasts of beliefs and rituals abound.  At one extreme, the aforementioned infanticide; at the other, a desire for large families and the blessings of fertility.^[40]  The Dark Ages, Medieval times and even the Renaissance were among the darkest periods in the history of women and child bearing.   Obsterical practices were filled with cruel and hideous atrocities. So many fetus' and newborns died from disease and obstetrical disasters that to mourn them was felt too burdensome and overwhelming for the families.   Evidence of high rates of mortality among children can be seen by observing those buried in Medieval England cemetaries.  Among two such cemetaries, more than fifty percent of those buried were children and the largest single category was children aged 0-5.^[41]  Found there also was evidence of the burial of fetuses.^[42]  Contrary to these formalized burials, there existed religious and cultural customs in which funeary rites were not observed for the miscarried fetus, stillborn or newly born infant.  There were "secret (Christian) burials of un-baptized infants…excluded from the confines of the church cemetary".^[43]  Early Jewish law, in an effort to spare parents the "pain" of mourning, restricted acknowledgement of the demise of a fetus or newborn to thiry-one days or more and these children were not "accorded full human status". ^[44]  The Yoruba tribe in Nigeria would thow a dead baby or stillborn in to the bushes fearing that if the dead baby was to be buried in the ground, it would offend the earth shrines of fertility.^[45]  Paradoxically, Hindu newborns and stillborns were buried so they may return to an "earthly life".^[46]
 
 
[1] Czeslaw Milosz, The Witness of Poetry, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983) 25.
[2] G.S Rousseau, Medicine and The Muses
[3] W. F. Bynum and Roy Porter, Literature and Medicine During the 18^th Century
[4] Irwin Edman, The World, The Arts and the Artist (New York: W.W.Norton and Company, Inc., 1928) 30.
[5] Mary Jane Moffat, In The Midst of Winter (New York: Vintage Books,  Division of Random House,Inc.,1992)xxiv.
[6] Rita Dove, in  John Fox, Poetic Medicine, The Healing Art of Poem-Making(New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, 1997) 4.
[7] Lisel Mueller commenting on Yehudi Amichai; Stephen Kuusisto, Deborah Tall and David Weiss, The Poet's Notebook (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1995) 215.
[8] Moffat , In The Midst of Winter, xxiv.
[9] “Poetry is rhythmical.  Rhythm secures the heightening of physiological consciousness so as to shut out sensory perception of the environment.  In the rhythm of dance, music or song we become self conscious instead of conscious. The rhythm of a heartbeat and breathing and physiological periodicity negates the physical rhythm of the environment." Christopher Caudwell in Melvin Rader, A Modern Book of Aesthetics, (New York: Holt Rinehart and Winston, Inc.,1965) 154.
[10] D.H. Lawrence, in Stewart L. Udall, The Quiet Crisis, 1963, 1.
[11]  Randall White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions: Life in Ice Age Europ e(New York: The American Museum of Natural History,  W. W. Norton and Company) 19.
[12] White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions, 14.
[13] White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions, 19.
[14] White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions, 19.
[15] Rader, A Modern Book of Esthetics, 155.
[16] Edman, The World, The Arts and the Artist, p.30.
[17] Edman, The World, The Arts and the Artist, p.30
[18] Emanule Feldman, Biblical and Post-Biblical Defilement and Mourning: Law as Theology,(New York: Yeshiva University Press, KTAV Publishing House, Inc.,1977) 3.
[19] Dr. Palmer Findley, The Story of Childbirth (New York: Doubleday and Co., 1934) 2.
[20] Personal Observation: American Museum of Natural History, New York.
[21] Ralph S. Solecki , Shanidar, The First Flower People (New York: Alfred  A. Knopf, 1971 ) 247.
[22] Edward Burnett Tylor in Randall White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions: Life in Ice Age Europe, 14.
[23] Marija Gimbutas, The Language of The Goddess (San Francisco: HarperCollins Publishers, 1991) 316.
[24] Gimbutas, The Language of The Goddess, 316.
[25] Gimbutas, The Language of The Goddess, xvii.
[26] Gimbutas, The Language of The Goddess, 213.
[27] Leroi-Gourhan in White, Dark Caves, Bright Visions, 157.
[28] Douglas J. Davies , Death, Ritual and Belief, The Rhetoric of Funerary Rites (London: Cassell, 1997) 133.
[29] Bernardo T. Arriaza, Beyond Death, The Chinchorro Mummies of Ancient Chile, (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1995) 139.
[30] Douglas J. Davies , Death, Ritual and Belief, The Rhetoric of Funerary Rites, 132-133.
[31] Richard Deurer, (January,1997) Egypt and Art [WWW page] http://m2.aol.com/egyptart/hathor.html)
[32] The Papyrus of Ani, (1240 bc) Translated by E.A. Wallis Budge (New York: Dover Publications, 1967)
[33] Findley, The Story of Childbirth, 155.
[34] Findley, The Story of Childbirth, 274.
[35] Darrel W. Amundsen, Medicine, Society and Faith in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press  ) 52.
[36] Darrel W. Amundsen, Medicine, Society and Faith In The Ancient and Medieval Worlds, 52.
[37] John M. Rist, Human Value: A Study in Ancient Philosophical Ethics cited in Amundsen, Medicine, Society, and Faith In The Ancient and Medieval Worlds, 52.
[38] Heliodorus, An Ethiopian Romance, 61.
[39] Findley, The Story of Childbirth, 274.
[40] Findley, The Story of Childbirth, 165.
[41] Christopher Daniell, Death and Burial in Medieval England, 1066-1550, (London: Routledge 1997) 124-125.
[42] Daniell, Death and Burial in Medieval England, 125-126.
[43] Daniell, Death and Burial in Medieval England, 127.
[44] Rabbi Debra Orenstein, Life Cycles, Jewish Women on Life Passages and Personal Milestones, Volume 1 (Woodstock: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1994) 37.
[45] Colin Murray Parkes, Pittu Laungani and Bill Young, Death and Bereavement Across Cultures (London: Routledge, 1997) 194.
[46] Parkes, Death and Bereavement Across Cultures, p.194.



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2. Aspire and Stand Tall by Michael R. Berman, M.D.
Commencement Address, College of Science and Technology Temple University
May 16, 2013
 
President Theobald , Provost Dai, Board of Trustees, Dean Klein, Faculty, Parents, Relatives, Distinguished Guests and Graduating Students: it is with much humility that I stand before you to participate in this Commencement. Graduates, today is a defining moment in your lifetime. It is my privilege to be a part of it.
I love Temple University and am a proud alumnus. The foundations of my professional and personal life were formed here. I arrived on campus with a 17 year old's vision of what college life would be like. At Freshman orientation, the class was told by then President Gladfelter to make the most of our tuition payments of nearly $700 per year. When I arrived there was one men's dormitory, Johnson Hall, and one science building, Barton Hall. I came with a few essential items: rolls of dimes for the pay phone to call home, personalized stationary and postage stamps to write home, a dissection kit for biology, a Roget's Thesaurus to help me through freshman English - and a slide rule for every other course! -The status symbol of the 60’s that said: “I am a Science Major”.
But I also carried with me a consummate determination to become a physician. It was a singular goal in my life that I was able to attain through personal commitment, a rigorous college curriculum, an inspiring faculty, and above all, Temple University’s philosophy of personal engagement in the lives of each and every student. Few among many get this opportunity to return to their College and address a new generation of graduates at the threshold of their lives. It is a daunting responsibility. It entails carefully choosing words that sear and inspire, that are honest, optimistic, transformative and relevant. Thus, I begin with these words that have inspired me for more than fifty years, words written by President James A. Garfield as an oration delivered at Arlington, Virginia entitled Strewing Flowers on the Graves of Union Soldiers. I committed these words to memory while studying at the Philadelphia City Library for they are also inscribed on the Civil War Soldiers Memorial on the Franklin Parkway across from the Library. This monument designed by the renowned sculptor, Hermon Atkins MacNeil, bares its soul as it speaks these words:
 
“Each for himself gathered up the cherished purposes of life, its aims and ambitions, its dearest affections, and flung all
with life itself into the scale of battle”
“Battle” in this context refers to the conflagration that was the Civil War but it serves well as metaphor for all we do and can do and all you are about to do with your lives.
In every past époque, every generation, dreamers dreamed, writers mused, philosophers wondered and scientists discovered. Their imagination and art-forms, thoughts and innovations; their genius enriched their world and the world to come. They were the bedrock of their culture, the steppingstones to the present day and future ideals towards which you too strive and seek. What matters to us today mattered to them. You must look to these great thinkers as your progenators, for each one of you can accomplish your mark and genius as did they for the benefit of mankind. This is indeed an awesome charge. How will you begin? how will you suceed? Here are my suggestions to help along the way.
First: Be a Dreamer
Dreamers are by nature optimists. They take what they know, instill hope and promise, create new visions and long for their realization. No doubt you are all dreamers and you must never stop dreaming. It is in the hearts of dreamers where inovation originates, where songs are made, where images are painted and where thoughts, deep and simple, churn incessantly to bequeath hope and wisdom to gild each of your lives. Dreamers are artisans, painters of unfading hues, infusing promises stretched on canvasses towards infinity. Dreamers seek covenants of victory between their immagination and their deeds. The fervor of their sucesses is contagious. To cite the great Chinese poet, Xie Bingxin:
 
“Out of my window the strings of the harp are struck, Oh, my heart! How is it so deeply entangled in the echoes! There is the limitless sound of the trees, there is the limitless brightness of the moon” ( 1 Xie Bingxin ; Fanxing (Crowded stars);verse 21; 1921 )
Dreamers know limitless “sounds”...and “limitless brightness”. They seek and find miracles in a world of miracles, they sever doubts of uncertainty and always see in others, not the darkness of the night but the shining fringes of daylight streaming into their hearts .
Second: Embrace language
Do not underestimate the influence of the words you read, write and speak as you enter your post- graduate world for they are empowering. In a moment they can help; in less time they can hurt. They can bring peace and they can create turmoil. A few simple words, prose or verse, in an appropriate situation can have inordinate influence on you and on others. And if we focus on those words of poetry, I ask that you savor them, for through verse and meter, free of inhibition and full of expression, the poet’s voice can articulate sensitivity, empathy and solemnity and provoke much needed introspection and inner peace. Contemporary Pulitzer Laureate Poets, Rita Dove and Lisel Mueller have written respectively:
“By making us stop for a moment, poetry gives us an opportunity to think about ourselves as human beings on this planet and what we mean to each other.”2
and "Poems are not just feathers drifting into the Grand Canyon...They can make a real connection with another mind and heart..." 
Properly selected words can move the reader or listener to tears and awaken the primal emotions of joy, despair and hope. Hope becomes an essential thematic element in a poem for as human beings, we all have the capacity to bring hope to despair that is uniquely created by our humanity and our human conditions.
Elie Weisel, Holocaust survivor and prolific author, writes: 
“Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can
be given to one only by other human beings” 
“The poet exploits the cadence of our language to feed the soul with beauty. ” ( Mary Jane Moffat, In the Midst of Winter, New York Vintage Books, 1992),xxiv )
The Universe of poetry is an important sphere for you in your personal and professional lives. I suspect many of you have discovered this already. As a physician I have encountered elation, desperation, birth, life, death, happiness, sorrow, fulfillment, disappointment. Poetry has been and continues to be my refuge when my stethoscope, scalpel and pharmacopeia can no longer heal. Many years of caring for the well being and the illnesses of patients and their families has taught me to accept that medical science in all its depth and possibilities is not precise and that the human mind and flesh are perishable. We are today steeped in myriad medical and scientific technologies that in themselves bring hope to previously hopeless conditions and pathologies. Yet there remains inexorable suffering and disappointment which may accompany the failures and tribulations of all new technologies. Their benefits may not be realized. Thus, the paradox of new technologies to cure and cause pain is real and evident. Poetry enables us to ask why even when we already understand how. It permits us all, when witness to the frailties of our humanity, to abet healing and resolve through the very core of what makes us human, our language and our personal emotions.
Third: Have a Philosophy
The philosopher Cicero wrote: “The Existence of virtue depends entirely upon its use” ( Cicero, De re publica )As you enter the post Temple University world, you will need a foundation of reason to guide you through your personal and professional lives and the diverse opportunities and challenges that lie before you. The bricks of this foundation will be your virtue, your integrity and your sense of right and wrong. No doubt, you will prosper but your prosperities will be measured by who you are and what good you bring to others, as much as by what you accomplish. Most of us are compelled by virtuous persons; we admire them, they teach us what is truly important in our lives. They become our mentors, our role-models- those who place wholesome values and selflessness on their daily agendas, and needn't struggle to carry them out. Throughout the routine that will become your personal and professional lives, you will be challenged, face doubts, meet uncertainties and question reason. The bricks of which I speak will support you during these times and surface the good you will bring through your life’s work. Aristotle, in Book I of his great treatise, The Nicomachean Ethics, writes:
 
 
“Every art and every scientific inquiry, and similarly every action and purpose, may be said to aim at some good. Hence, the good has been well defined as that at which all things aim.” ( Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics Book1 )
I have been fortunate to be taught by great mentors. They taught me science. They taught me Medicine. Above all, they collectively imbued that in my life I must engender a professional and personal conscience. Galen, the renowned ancient physician who lived around the year 150 BCE wrote: That the Best Physician is also a Philosopher. In my role as physician, I think about this often. Inherent in what defines the physician-patient partnership is an unfaltering responsibility of the physician and an unconditional trust by the patient. Together these bond the chasm between the vulnerable patient and the knowledge and experience of the physician; a synergy of the need for care and the privilege of caring. I believe the medical professional –indeed the professional in every discipline- must step back from each moment in his/her daily routine, and reflect on what he or she is doing, why it is being done and what influence it is having on his or other’s lives. This self-reflection, or mindfulness, is integral to professionalism for it encourages the formation of a philosophy of care and ethic of practice which in turns fosters self-examination and meaning, empathy and compassion. ( Professionalism is the basis of medicine's contract with society. It demands placing the interests of patients above those of the physician, setting and maintaining standards of competence and integrity, and providing expert advice to society )
 
Recently, I find myself increasingly engaged in dialog with my students and young faculty members about the privilege of being a physician, why we do what we do and how we can best help serve our patients. This is a most promising time to become a health-care professional and / or scientist, for there is in our immediate future enormous promise in human genomics, cancer therapies and other capabilities of advanced medical and scientific technologies. Yet, we must infuse this science with humanism and philosophy ( Humanism-“The concept that concern for human interests, values and dignity is of the utmost importance to the care of the sick.” American Heritage Dictionary ) , for in all that we do, it is of the utmost importance that we have concern for human interests, values and dignity. We need to assure that the benefits of our existing and future technologies are fully realized and that their expanding sphere of influence does not disenfranchise the patient, depersonalize the physician-patient relationship, alienate research from its ultimate reason and above all, that each innovation, each discovery, permeates and reaches every family in every global community.
Fourth: Emulate the scientists of the past; Be those scientists of tomorrow
To look forward, we must look backward. In each of your respective disciplines: Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics, Computer and Information Sciences and Geology, great genius has preceded you. Innovation has drilled down through layers of molecules and tissues, iron machines and giant comptometers, and peered through glass-lensed telescopes and microscopes. Innovation has flourished in those fortunate cultures that valued freedom of thought, creativity, personal expression, collaboration, and in those that recognized genius. Innovators of today reach their horizons on the ships of yesterday’s discoveries. Discovery and invention is accelerating more rapidly today than ever before. In 1865, Gregor Mendel presented his Experiments on Plant Hybridization and was branded the father of modern genetics. In 2003, 138 years later, the Human Genome Project was completed, the result of years of multi-disciplined collaboration. The first stem-cell transplant was performed in 1959. Last Month, just 54 years later, it was reported that a trachea was bioengineered from stem cells and transplanted into a 2 year old child born without a trachea. 3D Bioprinting, a tool of the new field of Regenerative Medicine “combines the synergistic potential of engineering and biology to create living human tissues that mimic the form and function of native tissues...” ( http://www.organovo.com/   
http://www.3ders.org/articles/20120730-gabor-forgacs-scientific-founder-of-organovo-recognized-for-pioneering-
work-in-bioprinting.html ) And, it is predicated that within the decade there will be replacement human organs that are ‘Bioprinted’ and personalized to a specific patient’s need. Invented by Gabor Forgacs, Professor of Biological Physics at the University of Missouri, Bioprinting has the potential to disrupt in a positive albeit surrealistic way the traditional medical, surgical and pharmacological therapies of many diseases. Professor Forgacs calls himself “ ...a theoretical physicist turned biological physicist, turned tissue engineer, turned entrepreneur".11 These very disciplines of modern science are the result of a new integration of all fields of science, bioinformatics, mathematics and the faculties of medicine. This is the excitement and promise that awaits you as you are granted your degree today. Your commencement is your inauguration: it is your beginning; your introduction into a world of change, challenge and opportunity. The integrity of our tomorrows will be fused with the promise of your intellect, your steadfast commitment to your dreams, your relentless pursuit of unfurled truths and a vigor to unravel the endless mysteries and marvels of the unknown. You and your generation are the fiduciaries of our future. Trust the Dyad of Science and the Human condition for as George Engle, the great 20th Century psychiatrist wrote:
"To know and understand...is a dimension of being scientific... to be known and understood is a dimension of caring and being cared for". 
( Engel GL. How much longer must medicine's science be bound by a seventeenth century world view? In: White KL,
editor. The task of medicine: dialog at Wickenburg. Menlo Park (CA): Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation; 1988:133-77.
(Conference on the Biopsychosocial Concept of Illness and Disease, 1987, Wickenburg, Ariz.)
Appropriate for an “Inauguration” is a poem and I have written a poem, dedicated to you, esteemed graduates, to your families and to your future which I would like to share with you. It’s prolog, are lines by Ralph Waldo Emerson:
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
Aspire and stand tall, Young men and women Upon this threshold of tomorrow. For fortunate, are those... Whose lives so fragile and in need, Whom in just being, so struggle To feel a sense of freedom From pain, malaise and hunger, And maladies Which through their years Steal their persona... Fortunate are those Whose lives will be touched by you.
For you have learned and witnessed, And now will teach and practice The tenets of what it means To give,
And live Your dream. With profound committal In your work and deeds, You will overwhelm the pity
 
Of physical agony. You will seek The truths of science, Solve enigmas Preserve eclogies Wisely make and use Technologies; -Even those yet revealed.
You will plant seeds of hope in gardens Disrupted by blight and sorrow. You will care when caring seems lost. You will cry when caring has lost.
You will smile when With hands you create and And with intellect, innovate... A promise for a time yet to come.
And in that time, You will see Through mists of uncertainties Which veil the world tomorrow, That with passion, skills and fervor, You can pursue cure and order For afflictions of the blameless.
As no greater worth is there Than for you to share what gift Rests inherent in your heart: Your passion for discovery; Your soul of science...
Your Art, Your sense of right and wrong. And above the rest, A righteous ethic that strives, Without pretense, To learn To think, contribute and create What is your very own, Lifelong.
Thank You and Congratulations!
Michael R. Berman M.D.
© 2013 Michael R. Berman, M.D. All rights reserved
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3. A Personal Prenatal Health Record for a Culturally Diverse Urban Community

Capstone Thesis for Masters Degree in Biomedical Informatics (PDF).
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4. Finding the right words after a pregnancy loss

An original article published in Contemporary Ob-Gyn, March,209(PDF)
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Programs of Hygeia Health Systems LLC ↓



• Homepage
  
  
• Maternl which provides proprietary, free-to-use software programs developed specifically to offer opportunities and advantages to improve gaps and disparities in prenatal health care for women and their families, world-wide.
  
  
• LDSP - a labor and delivery scheduling program.
  
  
• ESTER -Enhancing Safety through Engagement and reporting




Presentations and grand rounds topics ↓


Aspects of Pregnancy Loss- Third year medical Student Presentation- a regularly scheduled, monthly presentation at the Icann School of Medicine at Mount Sinai.


Perinatal Loss-Perspectives on the care of the family
with an intrauterine, neonatal or infant death-The Joseph Keane Lecture


When We Cannot Cure:Thoughts on the Ultimate Challenge to the Bond of Patient with Doctor-Global Bioethics Institute


An Overview of Patient Safety and Quality Improvement