POEM: pebbles tossed

how will I learn to cope
to cope, to cope, to cope
all my life
all life
is about that
coping
coping with the worst
the best
the everything that is

we think each day
is a course
to be finished
but there is no line

no path to follow
only circles
rings
pebbles tossed
at random

POEM: insatiable hope

hope is a dangerous thing
if you don’t feed it enough
suddenly
a hungry mouth
that once thrived
on hidden fears
becomes ravenous
and tears the thin flesh
of denial
devouring anything
without discrimination
revealing brittle bones
of random dreams
once buried deep
in the dark cave
of lost faith
starkly pale in weak defiance
bleached white
by cold reality
and picked clean by truth
hope slowly succumbs
to starvation
and left in its wake
is a hunger deeper than before

swallowing everything

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