Love/Anti-Love

The two-for-Tuesday dual prompt today (for our 23rd day of the challenge) was to write a love/anti-love poem. I think I’ve covered that here. We’ll see what you think.

Cyrano

Ever the poet,
ever the gentleman warrior,
he suffered no fool gladly
and bested all
with his sword play
and rapier wit.

Yet his one weakness,
his one soft spot,
was for the lovely
Roxane.

Pining ever, loving truly,
Cyrano tried to impress
his lovely cousin,
yet the bounds of family
kept her from seeing
his passion true.

And when she confessed her love
for another
he did not kill the oaf,
though he surely could have done,
no, he helped the man win
Cyrano’s only love;
Roxane’s happiness weighed more
to him than his.

***

Roxane

Beautiful, and quite an
intellectual,
yet, she was prey
to the remarkable good looks
of Christian de Neuvillette.

If only he was as smart,
as dashing,
as brave,
as witty,
as her beloved cousin.

And when he seemed to be
what she had always wanted
in a man,
she did not question
her good fortune,
she only embraced
what was offered,
and was glad.

Yet long years later,
still grieving his loss, loving
a dead man,
comforted by her
Cyrano,
she discovers, too late,
that the man she truly loved
was before her
all along.

Cyrano dies,
believing himself truly alone,
yet rejecting anything
that would compromise his
principles,
he dies, his honor
intact.

Comparison

Today’s prompt was difficult for me, and the poems seem to have been dragging in some deeply depressing areas lately, so I apologise for that. But this is what finally came at the end of the day – bear with me. ^_^

 
Comparison

The man on the ledge
wants nothing more than death.
His life is empty,
or so he thinks,
and he can only hope for
a swift demise.
Each moment is an agony.
He just wants it to end.

The man in the bed
in the hospital room
clings desperately to life
as hard as he can.
The pain is intense,
but he wants to live
like nothing else he has ever wanted.
Each moment is an agony.
But he just wants to live.

Who can say for whom
time crawls more?
Who can say who is right
and who is wrong?
The one who longs for death
or he who clings to life?

Trying Times

It was the end of a trying day near the end of a trying week and I felt exhausted and spent, late for my appointment, the end not even in sight, and quite crabby about it. And I tried to pull myself together on the drive to my appointment, tried to release the stress that had been keeping me energized and just relax and realize I was not as late as I could be, I was not in any danger of harm, all of my stress was purely mental.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I remembered that J, a friend who is also my hairdresser, was waiting inside for my late self, and that she would no doubt be cheerful and kind, no matter how late I was, and that she had recently suffered a loss. Her sister had recently died under trying circumstances, and at once, my own distress seemed trivial.

My sisters are both alive as are both my brothers. I am not having to bend my life to fit a new configuration with teenagers in it again suddenly. I may have had a trying day, but an occasional reminder that things could really be worse always seem to be timely when I get in too high a dudgeon.

Bless you J, and bless your niece and nephew. And thanks to a watchful providence that always knows when I need a lesson in patience.

Never Enough Time

Don’t Fear the Reaper

I turned on my radio to this song this morning, and it made me take notice because it was kind of fitting…and it was fitting because my dear brother-in-law passed early this morning. Mike had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in April of 2010, and was given six months to one year to live. (If you’re good at math, you’ve already determined he lived two and one half years past his diagnosis.) He was T’s best friend in life, and so we’ve been spending a lot of time with Mike.

At first, the illness was like a hidden specter, with few signs, just a ghost of pain here and there, and the illness caused by the chemotherapy that began almost immediately. Chemotherapy was a dance with the white blood cells—how much poison can a body take before the white blood cells give up? The chemo went on and on at first, twice a week for a month, then a week’s rest to build up white blood cells again, then back to the chemo. Mike had to go to a clinic to get his infusions, and Sandy said the people there were unfailingly kind. I suppose one would have to have a sympathetic and kindly mindset to be a chemo technician. And how difficult would it be to go, week after week, to take the poisons that you hope is shrinking your cancer, but that is also killing the rest of your body?

About a year into the cancer therapy, Mike had a surgery to remove the cancer. This was a time of great hope, because we thought that if the chemo had shrunk the cancer sufficiently, and they could remove it, then his prognosis would be much better. But the doctors who opened Mike up, closed him right back up again. The cancer had spread to his liver and stomach and had become inoperable.

And so the dance continued, more grim and relentless now. Mike would go to chemo for two weeks, then rest for two weeks. Then it became go for one week, rest for one week. The pain increased gradually throughout this process as well, Pancreatic cancer is one of the most painful. But Mike was stubborn, and stronger than anyone could believe. He’d been a military man, and a firefighter in his life, and had retired at age 52. He told T that was the best decision he’d ever made and he never regretted a moment of it. He kept his sense of humor, he kept his sense of fun to the end. It was amazing that he could joke and release the tension. T was visiting and was, seriously, trying to take a picture. You can see the result below.

And so, we visited together, and T visited by himself, month after month, and we knew there was no cure, but still Mike kept on. He was one of the strongest men I’ve ever known, not just physically, but mentally as well. His determination and strength kept him going and I never once heard a complaint from him. Sandy knew when he was hurting, and she was in charge of his medicines; she never let him miss a dose. She cared for him through all of it, rarely flagging, always conciliatory. I don’t know how she found the strength, but southern women are wonderful that way. Delicate as a flower, and tough as a diamond. Hospice stepped in only relatively recently, giving her the support and help she needed as things got more difficult. God bless Hospice.

Mike passed early this morning, about 1:00 a.m. At this point, it is a relief that he is no longer in the pain that ate him alive. We saw him last weekend, and he was unable to speak to us, though we think he knew we were there.

And now he is off to his next adventure.

And what do I think about death? It’s is the next inevitable stage of our existence, the next place we go after this life. I think souls are immortal. I don’t fear the reaper, but I find I do fear long months and years of pain. If it were to come to that, I hope I could be as strong and brave and uncomplaining and hilariously silly as Mike.

Mike

 

Have a Heart

Have a Heart

No matter how exercized people may get about the state of politics, religion, or world affairs, it seems to me that the world ticks along regardless of the hubbub.

For example, my brother and his gorgeous wife adopted a two year old and T and I attended a “welcome home” party for the little guy. It was fun–not an actual birth, no, but just as amazing. He is such a cutie, and his new mommy and daddy are as enamored of him as he is of them. It was nice to see my brother and his family, and my sister also came, so we got to see her and her family. There was food, and a slip-and-slide. Hilarity ensued.

And at the same time, my brother-in-law, T’s brother, who has been fighting pancreatic cancer for over two years, has finally been sent to out-of-home hospice care. His poor, dear, wife can’t manage his care by herself anymore, bless her. My heart breaks for her, but really, all she wants right now is to sleep; she is exhausted.

And what do all of these people really care about what is happening on the other side of the world, or the other side of the country, or the other side of the block, for that matter. What is important are the connections they have in their hearts, in their homes, with other people, people they love.

Sometimes, it is necessary to take a step back from the insanity and anger and outrage out in the world, and just breathe in and out. Just hug someone you love. Just be at peace in your home, and bake a pie for someone. Or take flowers to a neighbor. Or help a homeless pet.

It’s the little things, people. Those are the important things.

Bubbles

Circles and Change

The only thing one can really count on in life is change. Things always change. The small town you grew up in grows and becomes unrecognizable — the meaning behind that saying about never being able to go home, I think. The home you knew is gone, and will never be back. It’s sad at times, the change, because we say goodbye to people and things and places, and the only place they remain is in our hearts and memories.

Siblings, though they may grow up with the same parents, have different childhoods. Johnny, born first, knows his parents when they were younger, more vulnerable, less sure of what they were doing. For years, maybe, he is the only child, but if a sibling comes along, then things change. And that sibling has the benefit of the parents’ experiences and they’re older as well, he has an older sibling. So his childhood, though similar, is different than Johnny’s.

Children grow up. Parents grow older. Often, the children end up with the responsibility of caring for their aging parents, as they care for their own children, and so it goes, on and on, in millions of families all over the world.

If you look at birth and death as the same point on a circle, everyone is in a different place and time in the cycle and circle of their life. The circles interconnect with other circles, some are added, some break away and are gone, either because they leave their family circle, or they have died.

Sometimes you see people who are solitary, with only one or two brushes with others, single circles going it alone.

Sometimes you see people with so many circles interconnected with theirs, you wonder how they function at all.

Most of us are in the middle somewhere, with a number of interconnected relationships with family and friends as close as family. Coworkers and people you only know for a while, or some you learn to love late, but lose too soon. People that bounce away, and you wonder where they went and what they’re doing. Sometimes they come back into your life later and it’s even more fun than it was before.

There are births and deaths. Love, happiness, sickness, and sorrow, joy and grief, often at the same time. One has a new child, but a loved one passes. One finally finds a career they love, but their children leave home, leaving a gap there.

Rarely is every aspect of a life full and complete and happy, yet we can still say we are “happy.” Often, we suffer tribulation in every area of our life at the same time, and it feels like the universe is against us, but it’s not. We’re just at that point in many of the cycles of up and down, back and forth. But no matter how bad it gets, it rarely stays bad. The Wheel turns and life goes on and things will always change. If one knows this, it makes hard times easier to bear, and tempers good times with the knowledge that one should appreciate them, because change always comes again.

Maybe I’m feeling so introspective today because of things in my life that are happening – my brother-in-law is very ill. He’s got stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Over two years ago the doctors gave him 6 months to a year. But he’s stubborn. He’s tough. It’s been good to spend the time we want with him.

But he’s been put into hospice this week. So we’re getting ready to say goodbye, and it’s so tough, especially for T, since it’s his brother and best friend. I keep telling myself that this is a down spiral just now and that it will be good again.

And yesterday, I got a letter from my youngest son, halfway through basic training. And so you see, part of me rejoices that he is doing well and going forward, growing up, learning and full of life, and the other part of me is sad with the loss of a loved family member. Life is always this way, though. Someone you love may pass, and then you meet the love of your life, or a new family member is born, or something else, good or difficult, life always moves on and the change is always inevitable.

So we must be brave in adversity and smile with joy when there is joy. And try not to feel bad for being happy and sad at the same time. When I finally pass on, I don’t want people to be committed to sadness, I want them to go on, be happy, live their lives, full of joy and sorrow and always, always change.

April 19, Life Event

I have no idea why this prompt was so difficult today. Am home sick, perhaps that’s it. Regardless, something finally clicked in my brain – the prompt was to write about a life event, something like a birth, death, etc., something we all eventually must go through on our journey.

###

Betty

Carved from life
the lines on her face
so familiar, yet once
these cheeks were smooth
and young.

A young lady
smiling at her beau.
A young mother
holding her newborn babe
and then her daughter’s babies too.

How the years must have flown,
the summers and gardens
all blending into one another,
each year’s crop of apple-scented
roses on the gate
dropping their petals
in the heat.

I’ll miss you forever.

April 13, Unlucky

Hear the scary music playing? It’s Friday the 13th, of course, though I don’t really believe it’s unlucky, it does give people with triskidecaphobia chills! The prompt today, fittingly then, is “Unlucky.” So I tried to put a little twist on the idea of an unlucky child born on Friday the 13th.

###

Unlucky Me

Born Friday the thirteenth
Just what could be worse?
Dad was a mortician,
rode home in a hearse.

Mom was a worrier
She watched over me
with bell, book, and candle,
esprit, and weak tea.

My childhood? A strange one.
I thought I was cursed.
But it wasn’t that long
ere my doubts had reversed.

See, what always happened
would look just like trouble
But when the dust settled
I’d still stand (in the rubble).

And those all around me
thought I was the greatest.
and all hung around me,
newest to latest.

So I learned to worry
about all my friends.
Because they seemed destined
to meet untimely ends.

And so I spend my life
watching o’er theirs
(They think I’m just kindly
and someone who cares.)

But I’ll always worry
that someday I’ll be
unable to stop something,
that I’ll be absentee.

So I keep on working
and trying my best
to just save my friends
from bad luck’s bequest.

Prepared/Preparation

Today’s prompt was preparation – and with my stolen moment today, all I could think about was death. The losses of friends last year, and the illness of my brother-in-law are hitting me hard, I guess. (And yes, this is another Quatern. I am really beginning to enjoy this form.)

###

Gone Either Way

Sometimes death takes us by surprise.
Going about our day, perhaps,
being as shallow as only
the truly unprepared can be.

And someone we love is just gone.
Sometimes death takes us by surprise.
But sometimes there is fair warning.
A doctor’s visit, followed by

a grim diagnosis. Yet now
we have the time we think we need,
to say what we wanted to say.
Sometimes death takes us by surprise

even then, though, because waiting
for the end inevitably
brings weariness. And when they’re gone,
sometimes, death takes us by surprise.

Broken

Today’s prompt is “broken.” Just that, a word that has so many implications, at least to me. And this is a bit on the dark side for an optimist like me, but this is where my muse led me today.

 

Broken

 

As a child,

the world we’re born into

is whole.

 

There are generally parents

grandparents

aunts and uncles

siblings and cousins.

 

This is our life

this is all we know.

 

And eventually,

sometimes sooner

sometimes later,

someone dies

and leaves our

little

world

a little less whole.

 

And we grow and

learn and

people come into

our lives.

 

Friends

teachers

babysitters

later, bosses

and coworkers

and eventually

(hopefully)

love comes along.

 

And our world gets bigger

with each addition

but also

a little smaller

with each loss.

 

And we discover

that everyone,

everyone

is from a world

that was once whole

and with each loss

becomes more

broken.

 

And in fact,

the people that raised us,

they were broken

for as long as we’ve

known them.

 

And as life goes on

and the older each of us gets

the more broken

our world is,

the more people

we are missing.

And somehow, even making

more additions

does not take away

the weight

of the loss.