White bag brings You in,
Cold, rigid, unchanged
Limbs askew
Eyes piercing
Seeming to ask a question 

I stand in blue 
Staring at You— intact but hollow
Vague questions of who You were 
Flit through my mind

What sticks though
Is how You were
At the end
Before we got to your after

And I’m here
With what used to be You
Giving you the respect you deserve
That you were denied when you needed it

I heard your story’s end
How they say it happened
But how did you start?
A story, as I said

Now an image
Tangible but real
Still and rigid
Colorful while muted

Diagrams are drawn 
Recording every mark that defines you
Vials are collected 
Analyzing the things inside you
This is surgery with a different purpose
Not to save, but to preserve

Knives and scissors weave together 
Paring away your shell
Going deeper 
All the way to your core components 

What You are
Not who You were
Every part made even smaller
Studied carefully for contributing factors

A search for the reason
Why your story
One so short 
Was forced to remain forever unfinished

Then it’s over 
You are woven back together
Your story now different from before
With an ending

Not the one you deserve
But one with an answer

Life was cruel 
Death was harsh
Let the after be peace

Shveta Abraham
PGY-4, University of Texas Health Houston Psychiatry