Wasp

I've been stung on the nose by a wasp

Whom, with my gardening did make quite cross

I swatted her hard as the tears rose to my eyes

God how I wish that little fucker dies!

The Benadryl has been administered 

And the Mr. Freezy applied

I am afraid I resemble Rudolph the 

Red Nosed Reindeer in July.

You may find my predicament preposterous,

But keep in mind what they say:

A tooth for a tooth,

A proboscis for a proboscis.

Day's End

Some morning too soon my son will not rise;
Tears and pain will well in those green eyes.
What to do, what to say when asked
Why legs and arms no longer obey?
Will still so strong but the flesh weak;
Look to the horizon for the answers you seek.
Tendons, ligaments, muscle and their nerves will all shrivel
Like the withered roots of a plant parched by drought.
Faith and prayer metamorph as drivel
When the certainties of life are substituted for doubt.
Mother, nurture and tend this delicate soul;
It's the most and least you can do
In this situation so out of control.
The stares get easier to transcend 
While the stairs grow more difficult to ascend.
And still the last sunset creeps towards day's end.

Ode To The Unborn

One thing can be said:
Unborn is NOT Dead.
It’s a state of Undying,
Evolution’s fate untying.
A loss of potential.
Blame your Karma credentials.

Hold tight to the mystery of the unknown,
For we don't always reap what was sown.
How could creation of glorious union
Implode in such utter confusion?
The stirrings of Life
begat by desire of man and wife.
The Big Bang in reverse,
The order of things perverse.

I think of you sometimes, not often
In your wee yellow Tupperware coffin.
The rest swirled down the drain
Like so much bloody rain.
A torrential expulsion, but no repulsion.
A Google search of the Internet;
About 12 weeks is my estimate.

Our journey together was not to be;
My Dear Unborn, you are free.
You never really did exist,
In absentia, you are missed.

Assisted Humility

The door frames have been widened, the elevator is in.
Electric wires, like raw nerves, have been grafted by plaster skin.
For one moon the house hemorrhaged dust,
Its bones were sawn clean through
But do it they said me must.

Still you walk, run and jump. It seems all in vain;   
Past, Present, Forward, and around and around again.
Stay in the moment, but prepare for future needs.
Don't expect a harvest, but do plant the seeds.
When walking is an impossibility and hugging a thing of the Past,
Even breathing will be an act of assisted humility.
Memories of before the Disability,
Those will last, but will they make mockery of the powers taken away,
Or be filled with Joy and Gratitude that we kicked the loving shit out of Yesterday?

Mind in Clarity, a prisoner of the body encased in cement.
Grasp at optimism or lapse into despairing torment?
Pray for a miracle or a medical breakthrough?
Invest Hope in research or in divine placations of a Church?
No matter, because you're damned if you don't and damned if you do.

What lies beneath truths untold?

Receipt

A receipt in my jeans hip-pocket;
Professional fees paid for services rendered.
The needed reminder that someone, at least,
is in my corner today.
That old bully Self Doubt crept up from behind
and bitter tears began to well.                                    
I fished for a kleenex and hooked that
forgotten little paper from the week before.
Folded in half and then half again with the faint
scent of cedar, or is it lemon geraniums?
Who cares?
The fiery immensity of its meaning
melts words of gratitude into non-sense.
That thin little page ripped from
a booklet of a million more;
Representing mutual benefit, shared aim?
Who knows?
Tactile evidence of four seasons of intro-spection.
I had lost my way, too dizzy to find my bearings.
You lead me to the cross-roads and gently letting go
of my hand, let me know that any which way I chose
to go would be okay.
I turn and wave adieu, give a little pat
to the receipt in my pocket and continue on my way.
Services rendered, indeed, My Friend.

Oranges and Peas

A sag here and a bag there,
Everywhere some white hair.
FYI, that's NOT a wrinkle,
It's simply a laugh crinkle!                       
Mirror, mirror, looking-glass,
Please kiss my orange-peel ass.
Age-spots sprout up at will
I'm weak in the knees;
Regretfully not from the thrill.
Sweetheart, when you dismount from the couch
To raid the fridge for a snack,
Can you bring me a bag of frozen peas  for my back?
I think I pulled a muscle today during meditation
And it'll help ease the pain.
That reminds me, did you take your medication?
Oh, and while you're up Dear,
your falling hair has blocked the bathroom drain. Again.
Now where did I put my glasses?
Must you blame the dog whenever some wind passes?

All joking aside, we've had one hell of a ride
Down a long, bumpy road.
To you, My Love, my love is owed.
Though if we possibly can,
I'd like to arrange for a long-term installment plan?

Futility

Low winter rays burn my retinas, bite my brain
But the ice cold river whispers in my ear, promising to ease my pain.
The sun and the guard-rail are one,
My heart and the current are another.
The maelstrom seeks out my soul, like a lover
To lie forever in its icy embrace,
Frozen in a peaceful state of grace.
My tears rise as steam off the surface of the St-Lawrence
As dark thoughts come in torrents.
What if the shock awakens me to a new reality
And my mind changes, cowardly ideas loosen their hold?
Paralyzed, no longer by fear but by the cold,
It will be too late to fight the imminent brutality.
5 years have flowed under that bridge.
Laughable now, to imagine contemplating that plunge.
The futility of it, like battling a flood with a sponge.
"Bring it on!" I scream to the sky,
"Is that all you got, Big Guy?"
There is no going back, in Life or Death;
It's an onward journey, from the first to the
  ...very

        ...last


             ...breath.



Peace to all,

Andrea, Wanda, Volcandrea, whatever.