POEM: before

  

taken 7/09 the eve of my mastecomy

I weep for the earnest face
framed by smooth hair
her calm betrayed
by frightened eyes
that visible dread
almost enviable
a dull blade
compared to experience


my tears shed from a future
filled with unexpected loss
heaped upon the pyre
of what she had anticipated
sobbing for what could have been
for my present reflection
more unrecognizable, yet
just tauntingly familiar enough


I long to tightly encircle
that intact visage
protected in my arms
stroke her smooth hair
oh that lovely smooth hair
and tell her, murmur
whisper in her ear softly
something…but what?

I cannot tell her the truth
too soon to reason away
this much heartless reality
so I would tell her only
that I will try to love her
realizing it won’t be enough
but knowing it is all that’s left
for us both

POEM: high anxiety

the human body cannot sustain
high levels of anxiety
for very long
the acute state of utter despair
will wane
automatically

at least for a little while
a means of self-protection
from the damage such intensity
could wreak

like labor pains
rest comes during the brief calm

between desperation & numbness
even knowing the storm will swell

once more

and when it does

realization will hit harder

with each passing wave

taking my breath away
with the exquisite pain
of the unknown

becoming manifest

POEM: iron curtain

divided
there is a curtain slowly being drawn
between before and after
it blocks out the light
impossibly obscuring my view
on both sides
I want to yank it open
but it won’t budge
and my fingers get caught
in the lacy threads
there is no distant horizon
no rear view
only the intricate woven patterns
of the tangled cloth
draping everything

POEM: if few and far between

I want to know happiness again

to feel it warm my cold bones
like spring
find a new way to be myself
come to terms
with lingering wounds

as fresh sap runs

through my poisoned veins

this long season of despair

must not leave me diminished
my legacy to my children
cannot be

a mother root-bound by cancer
they need
I need
to believe that these changes
irrevocable
unbidden
somehow were transcended
transformed
sprouting

into a new life still worth living

beauty-filled

reaching for the sun
let there be lush moments

if few and far between
then at least enough

to scatter a few seeds

and hope they take root

POEM: closer still

even with Death stalking me

closer still now
hot breath
moist
upon my neck

I fail
I fall
I forget
to give all I have
to live all I am
today

POEM: veiled threat

who wears the veil
hiding the truth?
what shroud is worse;
is it the one worn by
the woman I was,
blind to the danger
lurking,
growing silently inside me?

or is the one worn by
the woman I am now,
who only sees the world
thru a dark haze,
dimmed
by the endless havoc
wreaked upon my body?

one veil shields
the other reveals,
both conceal clarity
in a misty layer,
a shadow
blurring the precious vision
I once held of myself

I long to shed
this faint cloud
that obscures my sight,
but I find myself afraid
the glare may be too much
and could turn my eyes
to seek the thin solace of darkness
permanently

Poem: pink is not

pink is not my color
i am not a warrior wrapped
in baby-girl shades
draped in softness
safe
i am a grown woman
facing terror
running into it head on
like walking on hot coals
red flames dancing at my feet
or deeply holding my ground
while steel blue waves
toss my body
endlessly
thrashing it upon the shore
but pink is not my color
it is just a tag
a faded label
inadequate
unwanted

POEM: creation vs. destruction

to utterly destroy
obliterate
is to make way for creation
both locked in an endless dance
a tumbling struggle
one defies the other
defines the other
each contains the other's seed
and lays a tangled journey
in front of me

POEM: thru this pen

There is no real comfort
for me now
no haven for my body
to find peace
to retreat into
no deep rest
from this wearying plague
any escape left to me
flows only thru this pen

POEM: vanity

This is real
not a movie
some late night tear-jerker
where the heroine
bravely
defiantly
shaves her head
I am not brave
nor resolute
not willing to let go
I am vain
watching helplessly
as my crowning glory
fails
strand by strand
hope against hope
that somehow
someway
my grandmother's roots
the same ones that kept the gray
from tainting my locks
beyond the pale of youth
hoping those tough familial roots
would spare me this indignity
this insult upon too many others
but roots only go so deep
and hair is as mortal
as vanity

POEM: room with a view

People listen when you have cancer
they stop, hanging on every word I say
funny
suddenly my thoughts have more weight
as if I’ve opened a door to wisdom
closed to every one else

Maybe there is such a door
open to me now
new vistas on the other side
perspective shifted
clarity comes in waves
unbidden

But I’m not sure about the wisdom part
perhaps that is not it
perhaps the only thing I have learned
from glimpsing behind that door
that heavy, terrible door
is that I know less than I ever dreamed
my view, unimpeded by triviality
unlocked
goes on for miles

POEM: residue

cancer has left a trail
of dust and debris
that has no where to go
it can’t be swept up
trying to
only scatters the particles
more and more
creating a hazy cloud
swirling in the sunbeam
where it might have been missed
dancing defiantly in the light
until a shadow comes
and all evidence disappears
from view

sometimes
others unknowingly pass thru
without realizing
everything in sight
is covered in a thin dusty layer
the residue my reminder
of futility

POEM: Janis knew

I remember singing Bobby McGee
eyes closed tight
lost completely in the moment
pouring all my angst
into each simple line
as I rocked back and forth
strumming the guitar intently

I lacked a little of the rasp
that signature voice
the edge that comes with age
or from knowing the deep ache
of hard blues, intimately
yet still fresh
entrenched in youth
when I first learned the song
I could hardly have known
what was to come
what there was to be lost

“Freedom’s just another word
for nothin’ left to lose”

I will never be free like that again
and I miss it immeasurably
the loss pulls tight at me sometimes
on a late summer night like this
mournful of all that has come to pass

meaning awakens realization now
I know that freedom can be traded
or lost like a poor soul
every wisdom comes with a price
mine is to know that I have everything
and that it is all so beautifully fleeting

I think Janis knew too

POEM: the tie that binds

Slipping away
like silken strands
loose
too smooth to catch firmly
clutching frantically
my grasp is weak
memories run through my grip
faster than I can hold them
the recollection of what it was like
before
of what my life used to be
when I was whole
that precious, simple existence
disappears
as the tether that binds it to me
is yanked away too quickly
the tie severed, cut
and any knot retied
will be a constant reminder
even if I close my eyes
I’ll still feel it

POEM: if this wasn't me

This isn’t me
I’m the escape artist
quitting before the going gets tough
hiding from fear, from pain
I’m the one that always gets away
dented, perhaps
a little the worse for wear
but not annihilated
not damaged irreparably
coming out the other side
I have often been better than before
eventually
until now

Yes, my childhood left its wounds
my escape was a bit too close
for comfort
no visible scars, tho
well
at least not until I made them so
with layers of fat
burying the deepest pain
hiding it
for all the world to see

But layers such as those can be shed
like a snake
or perhaps not
perhaps more like a moth
emerging from a cocoon
in the cover of dark
completely changed
from one thing into another
I facilitated my own metamorphosis
at the midnight hour

forced to

just in time

Now I am pinned down
caught
like a specimen
the one who everyone will see
as an example
a walking cautionary tale
reminding people to be afraid
for a minute, maybe more
but after that they’ll go on with their day
their life
unscathed
shaking their heads in pity

at my paper thin wings

now disintegrated
happy not to be me
I understand how they feel
How could I begrudge them their relief?
I’d be happy, too
if this wasn't me

POEM: not my home

When I see myself now
as I take stock in the mirror
I can still remember what I looked like
the basic structure of my form
when I was a child
a young woman
a new mother
my body changed again and again
a slow evolution
the natural process
merely witnessed
I can barely remember how it felt
only how I looked

There was a long time once when I disregarded
my form
my shape
my self
hiding, I buried her in layer upon layer
of flesh
of fat
of pain
until I was unrecognizable
smothered
but eventually I rediscovered my native essence
and peeled away those thick, heavy layers
until my body was my own again
damaged but still familiar

Now in only an afternoon's time
with the sculpting of a surgeon’s scalpel
I will no longer be the same
a new form
a new shape
a new self
will emerge from the reconstruction
and I don’t know how that will be
will I ever feel comfortable
in my own skin again
or will it always feel rearranged
unfamiliar
like living in a house that is not my home

POEM: I am lost

To conserve and irradiate
or to obliterate and rebuild
these are not fit choices
for any mortal woman

As a mother I choose simply
as a woman it is more complicated
and fear of regret
sits heavy in my heart
a driving force that has me
spinning my wheels in place

While I try and weigh the options
numbers and statistics are no measure
of the potential for human life
yet like signs in a language I can’t read
they point in the direction I need to go
a most reluctant tourist
with an unreadable map, I am lost

POEM: uncaged

Is it all too much
indulgent of me to wallow
captivated entirely
with my own selfish need
to endlessly express
the minutia of my every
thought
about this interminable disease
and how it has impacted
invaded
my entire existence

A shadow over every thing
all else pales
in the dark light
of this self absorbed prison

Release seems almost
more frightening
than incarceration
for to escape means
letting go
and letting go means
a failure to appreciate
the cage

POEM: Wisdom has left the building

each available option is fraught
with the torment of Uncertainty
Doubt lurks around every corner
waiting to pounce on my Fear
and feed off of it, well-nourished
creature that she has become of late

I wish not so much for Knowledge
to make the definitive, right choice
but instead I long for pure Faith
that innocent child of Trust & Hope

only willing Belief could bring me Peace
as Wisdom has left the premises
and I don’t anticipate her return
any time soon…she took Sanity with her
and you know what that means!

they are hiding from this impossible choice
and so I make it alone now, resting uneasy
until Hindsight makes her way here
and offers me Comfort rather than Regret
while Compassion holds my hand, ever so gently

POEM: in my own skin

Not sure
I can
write myself
thru this
ordeal
perhaps
this one
may finally
be too much
too hard
for even
the most
poignant
heartbreaking
gut wrenching
words
to express
to empty
to help me
find comfort
or solace
or peace
in my own
skin
again