WINTER'S
WORK
Like jagged
black bolts of lightning the leafless, lifeless terminal branches
of the ancient oak trees
stand
starkly against the dull gray windswept February
sky.
A tent of
gloom hovers below a star-speckled sky at winter dusk and covers
the dormant
life
forms and discarded remnants of the dead.
But the
branches… the
branches they claw in vain at the vacuous source of life-giving rain
and snow
that spits this way and that, polishing the leafless branches to a
shinier black.
Gnarled
they've grown complaining they moan, dancing
in
darkness
in the north wind's home.
Their turn
they've taken, no youthful
leaves left to be shaken by sunny summer's breezes
awakened
by soft golden sunrise.
Their day has come and gone, no more robins' early songs
to
celebrate another
day’s surprise.
In pieces
the fragments of
lifeless dry branches give way to an earthly call...
and down to
the ground with
nary a sound,
down...
down...
to the cold ground they fall.
____________________________________________
I NEVER EXPECTED YOU
I found myself starting all over again… and over and
over
and over again.
Meeting new people and finding new friends can be a
challenge when starting over again.
But I expected to meet her, a lady with style… or
someone
with eyes that sparkle and lips quick to smile.
I looked for a woman with a great sense of humor,
and who
honored the truth and rejected all rumor.
Because laughter’s a binder of two souls brought
together
I naturally expected the more humor the better.
As well, I expected a companion outdoors, who
welcomes the
rain and dirty hands, and campfires with Smores.
A lady who baits her own hook naturally yet savors a
discussion about life or philosophy.
I needed a lady to complement me and whose presence
I
could feel much more than just see.
Do my expectations exceeded any possible realization
of
finding all these traits in one human creation?
I really was sure no one person would do, that I’d
need
several ladies to make these expectations come true.
Then one day we high fived at becoming new friends,
though
I never expected my starting-overs to end.
I expected to find what I needed through time was a
lady
for each different pursuit.
But I’ve given them all up as you filled full my cup
with
love and contentment so new;
Now with every sunrise prayers of thanks fill my
skies…
Because I never expected you.
____________________________________________
HOLLOW MAN
I am a hollow person, as hollow as an old
tree. The day I watched you leave me the hollow
came to be.
You filled me up and I had wholeness, then when you
left you made
my holeness… empty, hollow, deadness from which I can’t be free.
Numb as ice, dark as night, no spark of life remains
within;
I pay the price, with all my might and try over and over again
To fill the void of paranoid with someone just like
you, so I
can live again, and laugh within
a partnership of love renewed.
_______________________________________________________________________
MY SIDE OF THE BED
I
wonder while I lay here how it ever got this way,
As
I listen to you softly breathing just a touch away.
Few
words are passed between us, no sweet I Love You’s said.
It
feels so lonely next to you on my side of
the bed.
_______________________
What
brought us to these separate lives we live together as we disguise
The
truth that passion and intimacy’s died?
Frustration
and confusion swirl endlessly in my head
As
I take my place across from you on my side of the bed.
______________________
Where
does love go when love goes away; is there some place it hides, some
place
where it stays?
We live together separately… there’s
you… and there’s me… but missing is the “we”.
Too
tired to cry and too empty to pray about the closeness we lost along
the way,
I’ve learned to accept the reality…
that you’ve learned too late the sad mistake you made when you married
me.
_______________________
There’s
a river of silence I cannot cross over where thundering rapids and
treacherous
boulders
Protect you from entry of one such
as I who’d venture too close, who’d look deep down inside.
I’ll
not let it show and you’ll never know my yearning to hold you to
me.
I’m held back by the dread you’ll
turn away instead
And
withdraw to the refuge on your side of the bed.
_______________________
And
for another day and another night we’ll preserve the isolated harmony
Where
we go through the motions of togetherness as I’m nice to you and you’re
nice to
me.
Maybe
we’re better as friends than lovers; do you dream love dreams of
unknown
others?
Will elusive sleep calm the storm in
my head after we establish our places each side of the bed?
______________________
I
could reach out and draw you near… to protect you from your private
fears, but
I know the words I’m sure to hear
“Not now, I’m trying to sleep”… and so the
river between us widens, it’s waters more swift and deep.
You’re
just a whisper away from me so I shouldn’t feel so alone,
Yet
I feel no different when I’m with you than I feel when you’re not at
home.
_______________________
We
both seem lost as we live together, denying thoughts life could be any
better.
We
care enough not to argue or fight, there are no jealousies, no hurtful
wrongs
to right.
We
just can’t break through the barriers built that protect our souls from
the
gnawing guilt
For
feeling way deep inside that perhaps the love once shared has
died?
Should
I break the silence and call out instead that I feel so lost this side
of the
bed?
_________________
When
you’re not in love with the one you love you’re forced to play a
game
Where
doubts and fears, coping and tears create a secret pain.
To
be in love with the one you love and they in love with you,
Is
a lovedream every dreamer has and wishes would come true.
_______________________
I
have no doubt you care about the loveship that we share,
If
I need your help or you need mine no doubt we’d be right there.
But
there’s an emptiness deep within your eyes that’s obvious to see,
I’m
saddened when I look there for no longer do I see me.
______________________
Do
we keep on dreaming our separate dreams as we live together separately?
Will
I ever close the space between so you’ll fall in love with me?
I
wonder if long years from now we’ll still be questioning why and how we
left so
much unsaid,
And alone together we take our
places… still hurting from the silent spaces… that haunt each side of
the
bed?
______________________
THE RESCUED
OK…
so it’s 10 PM and I’m bored. I call up a friend who runs a night
club
thinking some friends will be out shooting pool. “Nope, nobody’s
out tonight, T.J. Must be too cold.” Such is life on a
weeknight in January in
Northern Wisconsin!
So I decide to have a Cheeto party on the bed with
my two
little 5 pound orphaned rescued roommates.
We had an excellent time munching on the golden crispy gas
station-bought health food. Just me,
Popeye The Brave and Cricket E. Wicket.
There we were… making the best of our anonymous
lives
munchin’ on Cheetos on the bed and wondering what whimsical forces of
nature
occurred that brought the three of us together at this moment in time.
After our late night snack, I again went
introspective, realized there was magic in the moment, and my lonesome
and
somber mood was replaced with a smile. I
thanked the Great Spirit for my little furry rescued rascals.
When I turned off the light hoping for
soothing sleep, a smile returned as I thought about our threesome… and
wondered
who rescued whom.
_______________________________
THE
BOY WHO WONDERED
There
was a boy about the age of eleven, stretched out on his back facing a
deep blue
heaven.
On
a green grassy hill with daisies galore he was filled with questions
and yearned
to know more.
His
mind was on fire to understand why airplanes and birds and bugs can
fly.
No
sense did it make why they didn’t fall down and so the boy wondered as
he lay
on the ground.
Why
did his bicycle only hold him on top when its wheels turned ‘round
swiftly but
not when he’d stop?
And
why do sparrows look this way and that and never hold still to be
snatched with
his hat?
Why
don’t rainbows come out at night; how does the bark on trees fit so
tight?
He
wondered out loud “Why don’t butterflies sing like the crickets, and
why does
my knee scab bleed when I pick it?
“Where
does the wind go and how does it move?
Something must push it… or pull it… I’m confused.
Why
do the flowers hide all through the winter and what makes my finger
hurt when
it’s poked with a splinter?
Why
can’t I feel how these daisies smell? Is
it true there’s a heaven; is there fire in hell?”
He
once saw a cloud in the shape of a deer and was told it would go ‘round
the
world in a year.
Closing
his eyes now inward he searched for answers and truths and ideas that
work.
Amazed
at creation’s time and places, stars and insects and colors and faces,
He
knew he didn’t know all there was to be learned… or to what teachers,
books, or
beliefs he should turn.
“I’ll
just keep on searching for what I need to know”, thought the boy as he
arose from
the meadow to go.
And
away walked the dreamer, the boy of eleven, still searching for truths
now at
age sixty-seven.
_____________________________________________________________
RAINBOWS
ARE ALIVE
Whisper
a wish to the rainbow;
Feel the river water flow;
Wait
for the sunrise o’er the bay;
And give yourself up to “Come what
may”.
Although
the gift of life you did not seek
You now find yourself as if in sleep
Where
dreams are real, but you soon awake
And know that to find yourself... yourself
you must create.
So
whisper to the rainbow,
Feel the river water flow.
Touch
the earth with eager feet
And caress the flowers that you meet.
You
may not care if you are in the dream or in the flowers
Or in the colored
arc of sky after the summer showers
True
only to yourself you may choose to be
And live short life in dreams… or in
reality.
If
you whisper a wish to the rainbow
And feel the river water flow,
The
life you are blooms forth from earth
And joins all living things inherent worth.
I
hear you whisper from the rainbow,
I feel you move within the river water’s
flow.
You
warm me with the sunrise o’er the bay
So you never left me when you went away.
_________________________________________
THE ROBOTS OF CHRISTMAS
Today, two days before Christmas, I received a
special gift
from someone I never saw before.
I was at the head of a long line at the Post Office
mailing
a box to a friend. As I awaited my turn
a short, stooped-over elderly lady with a scarf around her head, clumsy
boots
on her feet, and crutches assisting her unsure steps staggered away
from the
counter.
She didn’t look up at us but concentrated on taking
baby-sized steps across the wet Post Office floor… and she nearly
tripped in
her attempts to coordinate the crutches, boots and feet. She
recovered nicely and proceeded
anonymously along the line of stone-faced humanoids towards the door.
When she was a few steps past me I tucked my package
under
my arm and (sort of) chased her down and I asked her if I could get the
door
for her. With head still held low on hunched
shoulders she said very quietly without looking up, “That would be
nice”. I went ahead of her, opened our door wide and
she scuffled with 6 inch strides through the door… and she still didn’t
look up
until she was right next to me. So I
said, “Ya know, if I hold this door open for you you’ll have to take me
home
with you.”
THAT got her attention!
She stopped, straightened up and looked me square in the eyes and
smiled. I quickly added, “And I’ll
expect a few Christmas cookies, too!”
The damp, cold and gray day suddenly warmed up for
me; her
heartfelt smile was the smile of Sunshine.
“I can’t stand long enough to make any more Christmas cookies; but I’d
give ya some if I had ‘em”, she said with a grin. Then she turned
her scarf covered head to the
sloppy, snowy sidewalk and continued her perilous journey 4 more feet
to her
car. “Can I help get the car door for
you?” I asked.
And with that the little old lady whose smiling eyes
and
face turned my inner grayness to warm thoughts of Sunshine. “No”,
she said, “I can get into the car just
fine”. I returned to the head of the
line at the Post Office counter as everyone’s face turned to watch me
pass
by. Each had a cold, stony presence, almost
as if I had done something queer or unnecessary. Maybe they
overheard me ask the ancient lady
if she had any cookies for me! Maybe
they thought I was weird or embarrassing… I didn’t care because my 20
seconds
of benevolence made someone give me a Sunshine smile. And by so
doing I was happy for the real smile
I just received from someone I never met before. Now I felt different…
a better
person… and all warm inside back at the head of the dull, drab, silent
line of
robotic humans.
_____________________________________________________________________
TRANSITIONS
I
awoke . .
.
from
the long and deep Infinite Sleep. The world
began
anew,
as I did too. I found myself within the
swarming
pool
of lifeforms, and wondered about my amness.
I
sensed that I was unique, a pure, solitary individual.
And
yet here I was, an insignificant ingredient in a soup
of
millions not of my own choosing. I was simply,
uncontrollably
passing thru the time of my own essence.
I
remembered the early newness:
...the
funny spots on the frisky little deer
...bushy
buds announcing that flowers would soon be here
...chilly
star-nights spreading a wet blanket of dew
...and
eight tiny mice became where there had been but two
Half
a lifetime later, August showed up. Our
first encounter
washed
away my youth in a storm of rain, noise and wind,
and
darkness at the wrong time. I was a
silent, unnoticed
watcher...as
the birds and bees and bugs and boys went
about
their busy games. Sunny days, moonlit
whisper-quiet
nights,
flowers, fields, feathered and fuzzy creatures all fell within
my
domain. I was distant and separate from
everything that
I
wasn't; and yet, thru an unseen thread, tightly connected to
the
unself of the world.
Too
soon it seemed the cold came.
And
the colors changed . . .
Even
I wasn't quite the same.
I
trembled with anticipation that a beginning and an end was soon to
unfold, both at
the same instant. I knew I had to make
the journey and
deeply felt the
need to be home.
Something mystical and
mysterious had been made complete by my being here;
I came for what I
had been.
.
. . detached . . .
floating,
dipping, then
sinking
gently into the
hold
of my mother earth,
The
end . . . never, ever
.
. . to be a leaf again.
______________________________________________
Where
Did Missy Go?
If any of my friends can help me find Missy
I’ll do a funny spin-around trick for you. If you see her tell her I’m
waiting
for her out in the yard where we used to play in the sunshine and eat
grass
‘till we got sick.
We went fishin’ all day with our dad and the
next morning she said she wasn’t hungry… huh!
It’s a trick, I thought, acause she always had to go first to get food
and stuff our dad drops on the kitchen floor. Then
that day while we waited at work for dad to be done looking inside
of other dogs and poking needles in them, she made some smelly stuff
come out
of her mouth. She wouldn’t tell me how
she does that acause I wanted to learn it, but she just acted real
quiet and
didn’t even eat the crackers and cheezits dad gave us.
I wonder where she’s hiding. Sometimes she
would pounce and run when I pretended
I didn’t see her. She liked pounce-and-run and sometimes I’d
scoot under the couch and tease her and nip at her when
she tried to get me to come out.
Ha! Then when she got tired of
teasing she’d trot away and I’d come out real fast and whirl around and
bump
her over and scoot right back to my hiding place. Then she’d get
real mad and bark like crazy
and she’d get into troubles with dad.
Then we would get tired and curl up together and take another nap.
Missy!
Where are you? Come and get me! Maybe something happened
acause my dad talked
to me about her and he let me come back to work late at night and he
looked
inside her to see why she was making noises and didn’t want to
eat. When we came home 4 hours later we tried to
curl up with her to make her happy but she acted awake all night long
so we
went to work again and dad looked in her again and his eyes were
raining and he
started making funny noises. I kinda got
scared acause he never made those noises when his eyes rained.
Then when we got home he told me he had to
wrap Missy up in her favorite blanket and put her in a safe little room
with a
cover on it so she could sleep. He said
he wrote a message on her tiny room even though she can’t read.
He said it was a love note from him, and from
me and from our mom and from Molly my big sister in Naples. He
made a ground hole in the little garden
with the tiny white fence overlooking the lake.
I’m not sure but I think she’s hiding near the garden and fell asleep
acause dad said she had to go to sleep for a long, long time.
That’s OK… I’ll wait for her acause we had so
much fun together running around the field, eating flowers, digging up
chippy
hideouts, chasing rabbits, barking at far away sounds and wrestling,
and
following dad and making him call us three twices before we would turn
around and head home. I’ll be waiting for her.
__________________________
TWO PATIENTS
I entered the
exam room expecting nothing out of the ordinary. To my discomfort
I faced
two patients, elderly, frail, innocent and hoping for something good to
happen.
Introducing myself to Joe and Arlene, I began asking questions about
little
Misty. She was mostly hidden within Arlene's soft, sheltering
embrace . .
.and all I could see was a small patch of dark fur and an old, graying
face
punctuated by two wide and curious eyes with milky-steel cataracts that
long
ago robbed her of vision.
It only took a cursory glance at Joe to know that he was the second
patient in
the room. The slightly pale but yellowish tint to his hairless
face, his
walking cane and noticeably thin features were all consistent with that
of a
cancer patient undergoing chemotherapy. Joe was surely someone
else's
patient. And yet, as long as his little dog was under my care,
Joe was in
a way my patient too.
"Well, Arlene, let's have a look at Misty", I suggested so that
I could begin the process of transferring the little dog from her
embrace to
mine. Arlene was extremely overweight, in her seventies, and was
quite
the opposite in physical features from Joe. Slowly she unwrapped
Misty
from her and passed the eleven-pound dog to me.
I could tell immediately the love of this old couple's life was in
trouble. Misty's abdomen was tight as a drum and she flinched as
I held
her. I knew she couldn't see me long before I heard Joe quietly
say,
"She's blind, doctor, but she gets around pretty good for an old
dog." Placing my hand to Misty's nose so she could "see"
who I was, I wondered what kind of a picture that old nose painted of
me within
her tiny brain. I then slowly
passed my hand along her gray snout and over her head. Her breath
smelled
rotten from loose teeth and infected gums. Misty's old body was
covered
with thin, pale skin, visible in places where a healthy, youthful coat
had
years ago fallen away. Bones and joints were now prominent
features on my
patient; her weight was surely not what it should be. My gosh!
She looks
just like Joe, I thought.
The physical exam on Misty indicated congested lungs, a normal sounding
heart
and the alarmingly tense abdomen.
"Has she been coughing?" I queried.
"Not much," Arlene answered. "But she seems to pant all
the time and can't even go outside without having to stop to catcher
her
breath."
"How about passing stool and urinating? Any problems
there?" I continued.
Joe responded, "Well, yes. She seems to urinate an awful lot and
when she goes there's not much coming out. Then she just keeps
squatting
like she's not finished."
Joe gave me the answer that I expected.
"We need to take a blood sample from Misty; and while we're waiting for
those results a few x-rays will really help us find out why her lungs
are so
congested."
I needed to be alone with Misty too. Thirty years of practice has
taught
me that some of the most reliable diagnostic information I get from my
patients
is obtained when I remove the pet from the environment of the owners
and exam
room. One-on-one, me and my patient. I poke and pull and
push, all
the while talking to my patient to let the dog know I am just trying to
help. And in most cases, the patient gives me the information I
seek.
After reviewing the blood tests and radiographs, the initial dread I
felt when
entering the exam room grew stronger. The next few moments were
not going
to be pleasant.
We gave Misty back to Joe and Arlene and the brave little dog with the
innocent
old face and trusting temperament disappeared between her two
caretakers.
Why does it have to be this, I thought. Why not something
else?
"Joe and Arlene, it really looks like Misty has cancer" I heard
myself say. I tried unsuccessfully to escape, wishing for an out
of body
experience so that I wouldn't have to be there, didn't have to be the
one to
slam this bad news at them. These kind and loving old people
didn't need
this to be happening. And little Misty surely didn't deserve such
an
affliction.
"And unfortunately she has it in more than one area of her body" I
confirmed. As delicately as I could, and in non-medical terms, I
explained
about the multiple, cottonball-like patches that filled her tiny chest
cavity.
"No wonder she was having trouble breathing", Joe said as he held
Arlene's arm close to him with one hand and the cane with the other.
"And can you see this large shadow here in her abdomen? That's
her
bladder. It's about three times as large as it should be."
I
explained to this family of three (and I do not mistake this for a
family of
two with a dog, for no human child could be loved more by anyone than
Joe and
Arlene love little Misty) that my patient was in a very difficult
situation. Veterinary medicine has made huge strides in the
battle
against cancer, but when 80% of the lung tissue as well as areas remote
from
the lungs are affected, chances of successful therapy are very
poor.
I informed Joe and Arlene that while the blood tests were being done I
attempted to pass a urinary catheter into Misty's bladder . . . and it
simply would
not pass. Then upon using a scope to visualize the urinary
opening from
the bladder, the presence of an obstructing tumor was starkly evident.
I quietly mention how in most cases we like to obtain tissue samples to
send to
a veterinary pathologist to confirm a diagnosis of cancer, but Arlene,
almost
in resignation, said, "We understand, doctor. Joe has cancer too,
and
has just had his last chemo. We don't want her to suffer; do you think
she's in
pain?"
"Misty is an exceedingly brave little dog" I began. "She
can hardly breathe; she can't see; she can't empty her bladder.
If she is
not in pain, she surely is terribly uncomfortable. And I wish I
knew of
something to do to help her."
Joe and Arlene huddled over their courageous little dog; Misty hadn't
issued
even a whimper of protest during the last forty-five minutes of
physical
examination, radiographs, catheterization attempts and venipuncture for
blood
sample analysis. I kept noticing that she seemed to watch me, and
wondered how she did it. She was old and her parts were
failing.
There was no trace of youthful vigor or beauty, her breath was
oppressive and
her body a decrepit victim of degeneration and disease. And Joe
and
Arlene loved her! And so did I. It couldn't be helped
because her
spirit and courage shined brighter than any physical deformity.
We loved
the life essence of who she was so what she was didn't matter.
An hour later, when more of Misty's relatives assembled to be with her,
we
euthanized the little black dog who was such an important part of Joe
and
Arlene's lives. I said good-by as they carried little Misty
away to
be buried at home. I shook Joe's hand and made myself look
directly into
his wet and tired eyes.
Now there was just one patient, and a physician would soon be at his
side.
As those who remain can only try to be equally as stoic, cancer will
claim
another beautiful and brave spirit.
__________________________________________
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