Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The Z of Time and Illness

The passage of time is a mystery to me
Like the days that pass when I do nothing
And the tasks go undone, the weeds take over
The tree, though topped stands like a hulking monster
It presses on the fence, tangled round it's gorgeous trunk
The upper limbs rank with the scent of early decay and last night's
Rain so rare this time of year I will remember it as April not late
May, early June, my birthday always comes too soon

The sister of my soul, my whole life long, the level headed one
Now puts her fate in the hands of anyone with a crackpot theory
Or so I think, other than the doctor who says, it's there where the
Trachea branches into the primary bronchi just before it reaches the
Fertile soil of the lungs in and out of hardly any oxygen there rests the mass
Growing like the weeds, the vines, the knot of trunk that pushes on the fence.

No air flows and a vocal chord is paralyzed making the voice a high tight complaint
The lack of options narrows down to doing almost nothing, or getting up and fighting
As if all life depended on it. Her blood depleted of breath's oxygen one lung closed
She wants to think it over. Odd that she, the child of a mathematician who was the
Perfect parent, has rejected hard science, medicine, the certainty of numbers, pulse ox
Sed rate in favor of intuition, the spirituality of mysticism, the soul's belief in the souls truth

I can do nothing but await her fate as if my own life depended on this one decision still unmade.


La Belette Rouge said...

What a gift your love and talent are. I could hardly breathe as I read it. The imagery of your yet uncut trees and the dryness and invasive growth and the paradox of belief systems all leave me feeling breathless. I hope you soon can take deep breath and that rain comes and that logic prevails and that the choices are made as if you were making them.
Hugs and love.

yellowdog granny said...

my heart aches for you both..prayers sent candles lit...

giggles said...

Her indecision may be its own decision.....

I agree with LBR. Your poetry and imagery are breathtaking themselves..... We will all await with prayers, or mysticism or whatever works....


The Peach Tart said...

your poetry and prose are so beautiful....i send love, hugs, prayers, kisses

Tengrain said...

Courage and peace Utah.

My thoughts are with you again.



themom said...

Such a vivid verse. Like the rest here, I feel like I am right there. I hope for only the best for your friend. Decisions are not easy at times - let's hope for the right one.

Steve said...

sending love prayers and positive thoughts

sunshine said...

Ditto what everyone else said about this post! Beautiful.
I feel so sad for you and your friend. Hopefully she will try and fight this thing ..although I know facing it must very scary for her. :(
You are still in my thoughts and prayers.

Cat said...

Ah I find myself teary eyed after having read this and that place in my throat where sorrows well up is aching... I wish

I wish you both some peace in the process of all of this, that is.

Gail said...

Such a desperate time when all we believe, all we ever thought possible, ideals and miracles all crystalize into a meaning that either will define or destroy the moments awaiting you both. And then it all comes down to, one sunrise, one morning and a window facing East.

Love and hope

Randal Graves said...

Good verse is often rooted in the shadows of life.

Unsolved: Mr. E's Blogspot said...

Hey Uttt,

Much love to you. Seriously.

I wwanna write all this stuff about encouragement and understanding and the balance of blah blah blah. And I remember that mourning is sometimes just necessary.

Though on this last note I'll leave: lets not cross to many bridges when troubled waters may be ahead.

I don't wanna leave you with false hope, but, well crass as it is and unbelievable as its execution may be:

Stay positive. And love her and yourself.

Beach Bum said...

That is real honest feeling and the best writing I've read in a long time. Prayers and love coming your way.

Lisa said...

Okay, it pains me to do this, but I must second what Randal said. I'm sorry for what has inspired this incredible, powerful poetry, but I am not sorry for what it inspired.