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
beyond the numbering of days.
Photography thanks to Nick Van Zanten
The beauty of a sunset along the Appalachian gaps
reminds me that I wish no one ill
Yet then its shining point annoys
and the glare strains my soul
“go hide in the valley and die out”
and in that breath
I have struck an edge
from life to death
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
the wounding is the same
self inflicted in moments perceived through lenses lost in time
eternal scenes rehearsed to protect a shattered soul from love scorned
so taught by mothers and mother’s mothers until each is carried
Image courtesy of “Franziska/ Whataboutawaterbottle”
spaces feared and forgotten
with daily breath once harboring hope and love.
Picture via “amdally” wordpress.com
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