All for the Last Time #poetry #cancer #photography

 

While he is living all his firsts

steps that rockforth  and tumble

words that jumble into Da and Ma

terrible two tempers that rumble

colored flecks in baby eyes

I’ll never know where his future lies

I will be living my lasts

springtime  never been greener

revealing the bulbs with my gardening rake

easter eggs treasures my grandson and I hunt

blowing out the last candles on my cake

placing the last pictures from my past

I will be parting with too few goodbyes

laying my walking friend away

wanting one more dawn to see love in your eyes

so many words I need to say

friends to enjoy hug’s last memory

it’s the last time in my rocker I’ll  cry

walking stick

 

This poem was tearfully begotten after hearing that a young woman (of 19) with a toddler is losing her mother to cancer. There is something so poignant about breathing your last sea salt day and never having time to take pictures of your grandchildren.

 

 

All I Have Are Ashes #Akhmatova #poet #societalcancer

 winter scene

I’ve cried for seventeen long months,
I’ve called you for your home,
I fell at hangmen’ feet – not once,
My womb and hell you’re from.
All has been mixed up for all times,
And now I can’t define
Who is a beast or man, at last, 
And when they’ll kill my son.
There’re left just flowers under dust,
The censer’s squall, the traces, cast
Into the empty mar…
And looks strait into my red eyes
And threads with death, that’s coming fast,
The immense blazing star.

~above is an excerpt from “Requiem ” by Anna Akhmatova*

Tears mingle in the dirt
whose ashes are these?
they look familiar
momentarily my tears sparkle in the mud
“oh yes that was my first love
he died at the hand of Lenin
my son is still awaiting my tears”
the ashes have worked their way
into the fabric of one shoe
clinging to memory
“please God  give my frailty a purpose”
this shoe I ask that they not take 
I must cling to it for warmth

when the winter breezes dry my once fresh skin
kiss my cheek with remnants of him…
~mdw

(my echo of a poem to this Russian woman who knew such pain)

Anna Akhmatova is known as one of Russia’s finest female poets. She lived during a time when freedom of artistic expression was unwelcome. Her losses were many…

This is being shared with Poets’ United Midweek Motif the topic Cancer.

This recent poem Winter’s Accusation deals with cancer the disease. I write occasionally about it but I usually try to stay clear of those doors.

Winter’s Accusation #poetry #cancer #photography

bench.jpg

You can’t know how many times

I walk past that door

that stands slightly ajar

out of that crack light used to stream

now there are silent accusations

reminders that today might be my last

and I hug the threshold

brave lines etch my brow

you won’t know

but the legs beneath me

waver just slightly

and I try not to touch the edges

the sharp ones that cut my fingertips

mocking me with whispers

“it’s your last”

“you can’t pass the next test”

so I stay away from them

and look for one more day to smile

at someone who is lost and cold

 

I have given up counting the number of times I’ve been told I was going to die within days or months. I’ve died once (yes really) and I don’t fear death. Saying that, I have seen the slow receding tide of cancer; my heart goes out to anyone who has seen the tide go out on life.

 

Oasis #dailypost #poetry #health

water and light

Cancer

that awful scourge

people gasping

in pain

there it was

a stream

smallest trickle

of hope

for some it offered healing

an Oasis

peaceful breeze

flowed into our beings

we waited not for death

but life

 

This minimalistic poem is about a real place (a hospital called Oasis) where I daily saw death and moment by moment saw renewal of life and spirit.

This poem in response to the Dpchallenge – Oasis

Tomorrow #pain #amwriting #poetry

The sun will come up …

Tomorrow

and I bet

I’ll face this all

tomorrow

it’s not fun

*

Just thinking about

tomorrow

cancer eats the joy

and leaves a sorrow

today its won

*

When Im stuck in a day

that’s sad and lonely

I must fall on my knees

and hope

and pray

*

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

 a pain free

tomorrow

is always a hope

away

*****

Annie’s Version:

Tomorrow

The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There’ll be sun!

Just thinkin’ about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
‘Til there’s none!

When I’m stuck a day
That’s gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!

The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You’re always
A day
A way!

From Annie

The prompt at Never Ending Story is Tomorrow and at Poet’s United – Verse First is Ordinary.

Some of us face extreme pain as part of our daily, ordinary lives.  I have managed 22 pain filled years without narcotics (except when I’ve been hospitalized).

You can sing my version of “Tomorrow” I have.  I added Annie’s version because she faced a wall of Tomorrows and managed a smile with each one. To each of you who are enduring I hope for a sun filled Tomorrow.

What of Life? #questions #poetry #photography

To know everything implies that I know something

“what” I ask of myself  “do I know”?

When the sails of life luff I may not be going anywhere

When the umpire emphatically cries “You’re out!” – I am

When the doctor tells me I have cancer I have no questions

What about those times in which I know nothing?

When the first  thunder booms can I get under cover in time?

When a patient squeezes my hand  for the last time is there more I could have done?

When my child makes a bad decision can I change it?

But there are those moments…

when feathery leaves dance with the dawn, I can’t contain the wonder

when a young dolphin squeals as if it is laughing, I must laugh

when I’m held lovingly through  life’s storms, I am comforted

“no” I answer myself  “I do not know anything”

with each day I cherish life and people a bit more…

At Poet’s United,  Verse First Kim Nelson has prompted the poet today. In Writing Down the BonesNatalie Goldberg says, “In writing you can know everything.” So today, be omniscient. Be a know-it-all, an expert; be the last word. Write a poem with a voice of authority.

Here is my last word then – I have to agree with those who have gone before me “The older I get the less I know.”

Photograph: “The Last “Ha” © L. Moon 2013