Listening to Angels

This ravenous requiem in my own body
splinters my mind with a whirlwind
of unknowing.

This music deafens my usual calm
and I am jostled with each unhinged idea
of what the cells might be doing to harm
the peace that used to live in harmony
so close to these bones.

The brindled bargains don't match
the solid deals I once thought I had locked into
and knew exactly what to expect.

I can not finesse the truth
of a breast swelling with odd configurations
that will not nourish me.

I can almost hear the angels whispering my name,
but not loudly enough to make me turn around.

The Biopsy

The damage has already been done
when you find yourself stranded
after the mammogram and ultrasound.

They've seen everything
your breast transparent
as an old slip,

the old white t-shirt wet
with friction and some virulent strain
of death.

In the old days
any woman would call a truce
and put up her hands to end things

before a wire as thick as radio antenna
is inserted into the skin under her nipple
where nothing will ever flutter again.

It is time for vespers
when the radiologist and third year medical student
ask you to raise your hand over your head
as they dive into the ocean of your body,
deep into the sacred places
near your open heart.

Coffee (According to WCW)

So much depends
upon

the electric tea
pot

steaming with hot
water

beside the waiting French
press.

Here Am I

My God, how I feel like Brother Job today.
My lover struck down from the fighting
My father on his death bed
My breast torn open and filled with sickness
My nation divided into a million shards of broken glass.

I dare not call to you today
with the names of my children in my mouth
for fear you will take them from me.

I dare not ask you the question
"Am I not carrying enough?"
or
"Have I not loved you enough?"

Oh God, here am I,
Your beloved daughter,
the mother of angels.

Here am I.

Shut the Door and Say Goodnight

Something harsh rushes past me tonight.
Perhaps it was the wind, a cold draft of the unknown,
making herself known.

I close my eyes for a moment of creamy peace
where I can feel myself sinking into the earth.

I have learned to simply melt from this body
into something greater than the wind,
like I am floating in a sun-warmed summer pond
and looking up into the blackness and stars.

Here, I am a reflection of that sky
walking backwards down the hall where nothing happens.

At the end of it all,
I will just shut the door and say goodnight.

Comfort Quilt

This quilt is so full
of love and kindness like all bees.
These colors will heal.

Choose

Choose to do something nice
if you do anything at all.
Kindness is like an armful
of daisies or dandelions in the fist
of a child.

Pray for healing
and for the courage to say no.
Suffering is part of being in these bodies,
and we must learn to gently apply salves
to all the wounds that damage us every day.

I want to be meek as a morning
rising from the horizon.
Gold and glory are as simple as light
and we blink at the beauty of a new day.

Love one another.
Have I mentioned, love one another?

Love with your heart pressed to the earth
and you hear the gurgling belly of life
lift from the ashes and dirt
into the cells that can't help
but find one another in a crowd of knowing God.