The Things That Save Us...

each day, particularly at times like this:
one of my dearest in danger, other loved
ones the recipients of more bad news, but the blue
blouse hangs there still and the garbage
was picked up this morning, and Wes went
to school, and I drank coffee and ate some
almonds. All of that, this Monday morning,
temperatures in the low 60s, brilliant blue
sky with wispy clouds, the air feeling like fall,
my feet pounding the pavement.

Yes, we just keep moving on, even after
words that shock and sting and numb us:
overdose, bad trip, inoperable, radiation,
chemo, excision, reconstruction, rehab--

we keep walking the dog, feeding and providing
water for the cats and dog, changing the litter
box, washing the clothes, cooking, eating, washing,
reading, sleeping, waiting for the phone to ring,
picking the phone up and calling when it doesn't
ring.

The beautiful and intoxicatingly good triple layered
pound cake I made Saturday night--whipped cream
cheese and whipping cream on each layer, followed
by a layer of raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries
which had been soaked for an hour in a cup of sugar
and one cup of Grand Marnier. The top finished out
with most of the berries. Almost too lovely to want
to cut.

The tortellini soup filled with foods to keep us healthy--
to keep us strong--for we must stay strong. Diced
sweet potato, diced onion, diced celery, grated fresh
garlic all sauteed in olive oil. Vegetable and chicken
stock, garbanzo beans, basil and thyme from the herb
garden, shredded chicken, kosher salt and pepper,
spinach and cheese tortellini, some fresh scallions
to top off each bowl, hot crusty ciabatta bread with a
homemade dipping oil. Some asparagus bundles
wrapped with prosciutto and oven roasted. Yes.

Yes, we must cook and eat and have some berries
with Grand Marnier, and wait for the phone to ring.

And this is all I can make of it right now, this the best
my mind could do yesterday:



The Blue Blouse

It's been hanging there for days, slow
dancing with the breeze, its turquoise
and certitude comforting in this time

where everything I know is in upheaval:
someone I love in the hospital choking
down charcoal to empty the stomach

of its ruinous contents, someone else
I love struggling with the outcome
of conclusive proof, and yet another

one I love uncertain about which path
would lead to healing--invasive measures
or acceptance. Exhaustion clouds

my mind; a floater determined to sit
upon my eye clouding my vision makes
me restless and unwilling to spend

time writing the words of life unfolding.
This late afternoon, I rely on the blouse
and the weeds overtaking my garden

to keep me level, to take me inside, where
all things are real, even those most beautiful
and those so ugly one would like to forget

the power inherent inside, the inability
to ignore or appreciate one extreme
or the other, the way the body takes

control as the mind weaves her web.