Cancer
The viper awaits
poised and coiled
not to stage one yet
no treatment for now
the fanged creature nears
ready to strike
I don’t want to talk about it in the morning
these moments now
when the conflict is cool to the touch
but not like the cold
of early morning coffee
and the rush to work
that so often shoves this conversation to the side
we need to talk now
even with our minds
half awake
and the show paused at a crucial moment
our hearts are full
we need to speak
these words into existence
into the gaping hole between us
to admit the ways in which we were wrong
and let the light of forgiveness into
the dark places we’ve let grow
so when the sun sets tonight
our hearts are clear
we shouldn’t talk about it in the morning
because who knows what could happen during the night
we only have the moments here and now
and to believe in everlasting
is a luxury and an impossibility
and I want to wake up to the possibility of something new
of fresh beginnings
not of the old grinds of yesterday’s mess
so let’s talk about it tonight
and not wait ‘til the light of morning
to find eachother again
Just 26 letters
put together in myriad ways
the start of love
the start of war
wounding and healing
inspiring and leading
generating
the power of us.
-Sue Neufarth Howard
Morrow – Stubbs Mill Road,
Stubbs Mill Road – Morrow
4 miles, Little Miami Trail.
The sort of walk for me,
a poster child for aging well.
Flowerings by now are down
to asters. Thick poke stalks enjoy
late purple boasts. Small lobed fuchsia
seed pods never were star flowers.
Thoughts occur in knots
no urgency
to undo
no matter / never mind
trees curl around your pick-up truck
like a child’s fortress of soft green blankets
hiding us from the road and unwanted eyes,
creating a space for us to dream
even though us could never be a reality.
While you tell me how much you need me,
a blue jay darts from limb to limb
seeking his beloved mate.
Perhaps she’s flown away.
Perhaps I should spread my wings too.
lights out. curtains pulled over
the windows. the crack & howl
of thunder in the distance. the sky,
grey from the thunder clouds,
casts the entire town into gloom.
it’s okay
we tell our children
it’s okay, it’s only a little storm
how precious it is
to be a child—-
to throw a tantrum in the store
& still be comforted that it is,
indeed, only a storm
to even, just maybe,
be rocked on the front porch
as the cool rain & wind
refresh the earth
& we begin again
like new
Was he “Untimely ripped from his mother’s womb…”
He cannot comprehend the pain of suffering
None of woman born shall harm him
He unaware
of others
No awareness of or sensitivity
of others
feelings
Understanding of the thoughts
of others
Projection of intimate feelings
Imagination of another’s
Perception of a subjective state
No empathy
I say to myself, I’ll do research,
then I research and go from here to there.
I say to myself, I’ll walk through the vegetable garden,
then I find weeds to pull and beets to pull.
I say to myself, I’ll write an essay on getting from here to there,
but I can’t decide where to where.
I say, I’ll move stones from here to there,
then realize I’ve already done that.
I say, I’ll play solitaire,
then lose all manner of time playing solitaire.
I say, I’ll hand stitch & patch the hole in my jeans pocket,
and find it’s an awkward thing to do even with an egg.
I sit and listen to thunder and lightning and rain,
and think how beautiful and awful the storm.
It’s time for yoga class,
but I talk myself out of going because of the storm.
I think I’ll do yoga in my living room,
and find it’s difficult to do yoga without the other yogis.
I scrounge through the fridge for a snack,
and find left over rice and green beans from last night’s supper.
I’m afraid to be on the computer,
because of the magnitude of the storm.
Are cell phones safe during a storm?
I wonder who moved the mountain,
and research that. All those stones one at a time.
PS I don’t usually use so many commas in a poem,
but I’ve found a function on my computer under edit,
under speech, then start speech, that reads my poem back to me,
the one I didn’t have time to write today,
and it sounded better with too many commas.
