Staying

We
are
staying

still
or
if not still

stopping
in one place

Children
once again
lost
and stuck
forced
to endure
another day
not of our choosing

Still
in our surrendering
learning
how to choose
living in place
listening
to silence
celestial breathing
blue skies
keeping us alive

The Gate

Like a gate that never opens
or one the never closes
or one banging in the wind
squeaking on one rusty hinge

My mind is not mine
just a bit of flotsam
lost to the irrational
forces of nature
or is it nurture?

I listen for your song
on the wind
weather storms
and still silences
hanging
on one rusty hinge.

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A Ramble on Quality of Life

Quality of Life is a recurring theme in my appointments with cancer doctors. Some people’s bodies and minds adjust quite well. Some don’t. I’m in the latter category. They remind me of the myriad of preexisting conditions and traumas my body had experienced before cancer and the trauma of treatment. Apparently my body is tired and a bit worn out.

I woke up in the middle of the night in pain and overcome by nausea and that sinking feeling knowing I wouldn’t fall asleep again and the exhaustion of trying to accept the realities of my new post cancer life.

Sometimes I think it would be better if there was no before for comparison. Sometimes I wonder if surviving cancer is the right thing, the kind thing. I am trying to find something I can do with these last years and my lack of mobility. I think I would like to be a student again. I loved college. I was good at being a student. So maybe my hobby will be learning.

Sorry. Rambling thoughts. I didn’t sleep. My head hurts. That phantom place where the incision was made hurts. Damaged nerves. Damaged lives.

Blessings.

by Josephine Robin Dalton
Not particularly a relevant photo other than it being a revered place of learning. Radcliffe Camera, Oxford ~ October 2010

 

Reading Poetry

New poetry I’m reading. I had to look up Erato. I had forgotten. She was one of the Greek Goddesses, the muse of erotic poetry and mime.

I was reading a novel but it failed to hold my attention. So now I’m sliding down the rabbit hole into poetry.

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