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: yesterday

Wasn't it just yesterday
I sat moody
sprawled on my bedroom floor
draped over my guitar
scratching away on pages
laid before me
like a banquet
feasting upon the youth
of my own song?

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: what to keep, what to discard

Sorting thru boxes in the basement
I find random, scattered remnants
things I thought were important
crammed into unmarked containers

the notebook I used to keep track
of the times I nursed my first baby
sleep deprived scribblings
evidence of a mother’s nervous dedication

keep

the childhood rock collection
in a scratched plastic box
purchased with my own money
from a vacation gift shop

keep

the cards I bought but never sent
misplaced when they were needed
people absent from my life now
no longer worth saving

discard

these bits and pieces are like lines on a map
the road leads to a place of order
but I am lost amongst the stories
and don’t want to find my way just yet

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: beyond every why

you melt me
one glimmer of smile
and I am gone
your joy
is mine
and I am smitten
beyond comprehension
such a powerful thing
the love of a mother
for her children
it is the truth
in all beauty
and the reason
beyond every why

POEM: full circle

when you first grew
in my body
I wondered how I could love
another child as much
as I loved my first

so deep has been my love for Megan
I couldn’t imagine another being
coming into that circle
but you, our sweet Daniel

you not only joined our circle
you somehow made it more complete
a loving embrace
to hold us all tight

seamless

as if you had been there all along

I believe in some way you were

always a part of us

even before you arrived

POEM: Meggie's Eyes

after you were born
from the moment you opened your eyes
for the first time
dark baby blue, endless
I got lost in their depth
falling deeper in love than I ever imagined
I wondered what they would look like
as you grew

Slowly they turned brighter blue
sparkling
sharp, searching, focusing
finding my face easily
our eyes locked into long soulful looks

as I nursed you for hours
your stare was intense
even strangers often remarked
about the powerful beauty
of your strong gaze

As the first years began to pass
I wondered if your eyes might turn green
like mine
for many years of my childhood
my mother said I had blue eyes
but when I looked at my face
really looked at my own face
they were not blue
but green
even photographs showed the change
she hadn’t noticed

No one in my family has my eyes
they are unique
my favorite thing
about myself
I’ve never seen the color on anyone else
until the day you looked up at me
barely four
smiling
and there they were staring back at me
pale green
enticing
like the sea on a gentle shore
and I knew
I saw them
I saw you
finally my eyes were no longer
alone
and on you they are more beautiful
than I could have ever dreamed

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: calendar girl

It felt like Tuesday all day
though it was only Monday
how many moments
have fallen behind, lost

where do they go?

I wish time flowed like water
fluid
instead of fits and stops
jolting

I wish there was at least one day
that matched the calendar
in my head

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