Diagnosis
for Walt
Ten inches cut
from your large intestine
is not so routine. Nor's
the spread you couldn't
have expected. The morning
you checked in, nothing
was different yet. She
still pressed close,
her lips honeyed with
unknowing, and you,
timing how your heart
always rests between
the rise and fall of her
own, imagined how
your paints would create
their own new staging ground.
© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
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13 comments:
This gets me, in a good way. Of course, I'm a sucker for cancer poems. Give my love to Walt.
That was a great Mary Oliver poem on his blog, too.
Oh wow Maureen -- it doesn't even have to be about cancer -- it is about life, that 'timing how your heart/always rests between/the rise and fall of her/own...
Beautiful and evocative.
This poem is a lovely interior way of coming towards the cancer. Just as Walt expressed in his eloquent and heartfelt post, a courageous choice of opening into breath and inspiration instead of closing down in fear. Releasing onto the paper or canvas all of the unknown words and colors that accumulate as the news is processed. Beautiful poem, Maureen.
Exquisite poem, Maureen-- I love:
,,She
still pressed close,
her lips honeyed with
unknowing, and you,
timing how your heart
always rests between
the rise and fall of her
own...
A deceptively delicate and vivid piece on this toughest of subjects... xxxj
The before and the after, always intertwined, and too easily forgotten that they are joined in what we have and are. Best thoughts and wishes to your friend--enjoyed the Oliver poem as well.
Excellent poem. I first misread paints as pants. So wrong....
So deeply moving ... and his story on his site.
lol...here i was all seriously contemplating your poem and matt...oh my smiles...
ugh on the beginning as it is all too real, but then in the measures through the middle...the intimacy of it...i liked much maureen
i'm gonna go and check out walt's place.
Very powerfully understated, quiet, creating a space forvthe full magnitude of its meaning to creep into consciousness. Astonishing silence surrounding the entire poem, claiming our attention, attending a form of reverent austerity. Your poem invites us to pray with the objects of your poetic effort.
That is very, very beautiful. So much support and healing energy to your friend...
Very touching, Maureen... I love the ending. It sounds like your friend Walt has the right kind of attitude.
For those of us who know and love Walt, this one goes deep and settles in the heart. Beautiful expression that I personally found quite comforting. Thank you, Maureen.
Shell
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