Physician burnout: a poem on the unseen weight of medicine
You took an oath not to be a machine,
not to be a ledger of codes and signatures,
not to be a pair of hands
moving briskly from room to room
as if compassion could be measured in 15-minute increments.
You took an oath to listen for the tremor beneath a voice,
to feel for the pulse that falters under your fingertips,
to stand between suffering hope and say,
“I will try.”
But somewhere between the stethoscope and the …
Physician burnout: a poem on the unseen weight of medicine









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