That was the year my brother
got arrested. To say my brother's name
and prison in the same sentence, other than
to say he was volunteering, was an impossible
juxtaposition that destroyed my picture
of our family, and took my breath away.
That was the year my daughter left for college
and all I could do was cry. Not sweet motherly tears
but heaving sobs, running nose and swollen eyes
that embarrassed everyone around, including me.
I went to a couple's workshop with my husband but
all I could do was cry at the loss of Kelly.
That was the year my mother died
and there should never be a year when
a mother dies six weeks after being diagnosed with something
that had treatment protocols
and a favorable prognosis but instead she died.
I wasn't ready to not have her in my life,
in my daughter's life or to figure out what to do
with the hole in my heart for which they
had no treatment protocols. It felt
like this hole was the whole of me and it
was mother who always cared for our hearts
but she died and I had to figure out how to do it
by myself that year. In the many vivid dreams
I had of mother after she died I was so relieved
to see her I forgot to ask how she did this essential thing.
That was the year I got fired from my job but it wasn't a job
to me. It was my profession, all I wanted to do since I was three.
They used euphemisms like downsizing
or rightsizing but it wasn't right for me, although
they did size me down alright, so down I was immobilized,
really, unable to move.
juxtaposition that destroyed my picture
of our family, and took my breath away.
That was the year my daughter left for college
and all I could do was cry. Not sweet motherly tears
but heaving sobs, running nose and swollen eyes
that embarrassed everyone around, including me.
I went to a couple's workshop with my husband but
all I could do was cry at the loss of Kelly.
That was the year my mother died
and there should never be a year when
a mother dies six weeks after being diagnosed with something
that had treatment protocols
and a favorable prognosis but instead she died.
I wasn't ready to not have her in my life,
in my daughter's life or to figure out what to do
with the hole in my heart for which they
had no treatment protocols. It felt
like this hole was the whole of me and it
was mother who always cared for our hearts
but she died and I had to figure out how to do it
by myself that year. In the many vivid dreams
I had of mother after she died I was so relieved
to see her I forgot to ask how she did this essential thing.
That was the year I got fired from my job but it wasn't a job
to me. It was my profession, all I wanted to do since I was three.
They used euphemisms like downsizing
or rightsizing but it wasn't right for me, although
they did size me down alright, so down I was immobilized,
really, unable to move.
I had to go to a healer that year to get healed
because I just couldn't move and I had a hole in my heart.
It wasn't the kind of healing to give me something
to chat about at a coffee klatch. It was the kind that got my
limbs moving, filled my heart, drove away evil,
because I just couldn't move and I had a hole in my heart.
It wasn't the kind of healing to give me something
to chat about at a coffee klatch. It was the kind that got my
limbs moving, filled my heart, drove away evil,
brought back goodness and saved my life.
That year, that was the year.
This was posted first in May of 2012 in a different form in response to a stream-of-consciousness writing prompt and redone here for the Repeat Performances prompt by Karin (Manicddaily) encouraging repitition in our poetry over at dVerse Poets Pub.
That year, that was the year.
This was posted first in May of 2012 in a different form in response to a stream-of-consciousness writing prompt and redone here for the Repeat Performances prompt by Karin (Manicddaily) encouraging repitition in our poetry over at dVerse Poets Pub.
Now, many years later, I realize that that year became one of my great teachers and that the healer was one of my life's great gifts.