The Native Health Elective Coordinators, Association of Native American Medical Students, & Native American Heritage Month Planning Committee present a screening of Amá, a documentaryabout the forced sterilization of Native American women in t

My first day on rotations was your last day on earth.

This morning when you woke up, did you think it might be the last time?

I hope you had a nice breakfast.

Sunday morning in Monterey Bay, no tail tip on the horizon so far. The conversation was about transgenic zebra fishes lines breeding strategy when… Splasshhh ... too fast to see clearly what happened but definitely it wasn’t a zebra fish.

I wonder where you were

While you sat watching your hands work away at their terrible task

While you sat, a passive observer

To the things your world required.

It wasn’t easy to get here

Blurry red fills his vision as he crashes back against the ropes,

back aching for the support of the taught cords.

Bruised and battered, he fixes his gaze upon his adversary, who rests

brightly lit in the dark room.

Editor’s note: Simone Kurial took the Synapse Storytelling Contest first place award for creative writing.

Editor's note: Kelly Crotty is the third place winner if the Synapse Storytelling Contest creative writing category.

I'd give up my throne,

I'd give up my crown,

To see the world painted,

In that beautiful shade of brown,

Deep is the vale,

Deeper than the seas,

For there's more to that eye,

I am greeted by a cool morning’s energy

carried in the brisk air breaking on my back.

Refreshed, I approach the towering sanctum.

Its spire rends the sky, providing a lofty perch

for a lone gargoyle.

When you promised to make my brain sing color,

I jumped at the chance.

You were a painter of vibrancies,

inking trails to collect on debts for every

sunset stolen from your palette.