This piece was inspired by the mobile morgue by grandma Amita’s house- something none of us had ever seen! Seeing a refrigerated truck that piled up dead bodies was freaky, and maybe ignited some curiosity in the kids. Poem by Aarav.
Cold, sterile, linear, colorless, lifeless—all these words come to mind when I hear the word morgue. Initially, there is no positive emotion accompanying this word, yet in the deepest part of my heart, I am thankful for people who work there and those that conduct the testing and teaching of the human body. And thus I realize this place that repulses my whole body does have a beating caring heart.
Jolanda Dranchak
Amita Rodman
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