For The Record

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She did not match the data presented

in hospital speak to a crowd of learners.

It was not so much a lie

as it was a revealing – a tale.

The well and the ill are stories

told from all sides of a hospital bed

in space and time

not captured in code and computer screens.

So let the record so reflect

the hurt and the heart of

hands reaching

and healing

beyond the numbering of days.

 

 

Photography thanks to Nick Van Zanten

Edge

The beauty of a sunset along the Appalachian gaps

reminds me that I wish no one ill

Yet then its shining point annoys

I squint

and the glare strains my soul

I shout

“go hide in the valley and die out”

no patience

no presence

and in that breath

I have struck an edge

from life to death

Mourning rounds

 

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From the opposite side, I watched the murder

some might say suicide.

Racing never an attempt to waver.

Morning speed a must.

Indecisive the victim scrambled left -right

then frozen in fear –crushed by the weight

a heart stopped.

A morning death always makes me cry.

 

Photo courtesy of blumworks@wordpress

Gasp

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the wounding is the same

self inflicted in moments perceived through lenses lost in time

birthing shame

eternal scenes rehearsed to protect a shattered soul from love scorned

beholding fear

so taught by mothers and mother’s mothers until each is carried

beyond this

gasping

 

Image courtesy of “Franziska/ Whataboutawaterbottle”

Lines

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I race through lines of shadowed trees

marking highway miles

Beams of sun flash inbetween

stains of light on dark

Never slow. Never stop.

Nothing stills the soul

A one-way movement through the day

as still the cancer grows

Nothing soothes the sting of flames

lining every breath

A daily journey–race it seems

through lines of shadowed trees

Another lightning in-between the patient-doctor space-

Data-speak and comfort lines

my very human face

reflecting life as memories

shadows close the day.

Photo by Trevor Cole