oh friend, pain is trying
I so regret all the things
I so regret all the things
I didn't do with this body
in all its many instances
and interruptions of love
to how my mother calls me
Kanna, my eye, and claims
she loves both her children
the same--how can I choose
between either eye--she'll ask
how sentimental these stories
how sentimental these stories
we tell ourselves, despite haste,
the blade clenched to scapegoat
joy, awe--spliced by anxiety as
faithful as any real physical law
Oh friend, in the heart shapes
of our language, I hear how we
are larger than you, than me,
how survival means we live...
not forgetting what we live for
_______________________
Note: On our walk today, Big A talked about his swollen, arthritic finger joint and it reminded me of when Lisa had posted a picture of her RA flare and broke my heart when she noted how it hurt when she held hands with her youngest because he's too young to know not to hold "too hard." And that got me thinking of friends and family who must consider/monitor/battle health conditions and how we all do our best with the bodies we've accrued over the decades. But also how the body is a stand-in for "more." I loved this article on how Kindness improves our health.
Pic: KM and JB's wonderful collection of menorahs at their Hanukkah party. I wish I'd gotten a picture when they were magnificently lit up.
10 comments:
This is so beautiful! I love how poetry forces us to slow down and think about each word and stanza to really take in the meaning. You are so talented!!
I am sorry to hear about Big A’s painful joint. I imagine he has to use his hands quite a bit as a physician. Pain makes everything a little bit (or a lot) harder. :(
Oooh I really like this one, Maya. It's gorgeous and so evocative.
Poor A! Chronic pain is so exhausting. I hope he can have some relief.
Good
Lovely. If only I had known how good I had it with my body when I was younger!
Thank you, Lisa!
I know you understand <3
Thank you, Nicole. XO
Right?!?!
My mother used to say that, too, "I love you both the same" when one of us (usually my sister) would ask who she loved more. As a mother, as least for me, I now know it's often not quite true-- you don't love one more than the other, but you love them differently, because they're different people.
Thanks!
Yes, it's quite childish to imagine there is a simple answer to that question... Unfortunately, I was the asker in our family...
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