I’m Sure You Know Them
They take the color out of Fall
By negative energy and words
~~~~~~~~
The plaque is on my office wall; meant as a sign of humor. I do try to maintain a very positive, mentoring attitude at work, but I bet you there are times where I contribute to the negative swirl of daily ‘what will go wrong next?’ energy. I try to remind myself of my impact upon others, and their impact upon me. Powerful forces for good or not so good.
The long days of summer
allow me time
To cut the grass late
into the evening.
I am accompanied now by
This orchestra of
Insects. My own cicada
Serenade.
To many an annoying din
Of white noise.
To be shut out with
Closed windows.
5, 13 maybe 17 years
Waiting to
Sing out loud, called
To the sunset.
Every tree around me
Its own ensemble
Rising and falling
Almost as one.
It starts in the elm.
Then fading,
The ash takes up the
Rolling line.
Patience reveals the
Patterns.
Not of seconds but
Minutes and hours.
By the honey locust's
Encore, the grass
Is done and the song
Fades into the night.
The morning holds little promise
dreary, gray, a bit depressing.
Staying in bed later than I should,
hoping the phone doesn’t ring-
it does,
A call that made me cry sweet tears,
A call filled with words I didn’t like,
finally, one of those calls we all dread.
A dreary dark, difficult day,
spent in an emergency room
filled with veterans from many wars.
I wonder what their stories encompass,
If I even deserve to share this time with them,
waiting, waiting, waiting,
for their name to be called,
so they could wait again in a different line.
I am humbled by their patience, the calm
of a room filled with people who didn’t wait
when they were asked to serve.
Another day, another lesson in what it means to serve.
It seems to be the topic today so here is my poem about cancer. It is mostly about my mother’s experience but also about cancer itself. I started to wonder how strange it is that “cancer” if it can be thought of as a thing works so hard to get rid of it’s host and thereby kills itself in the process. So I wrote a poem from the viewpoint of “the cancer” called Patients. It was originally published last month on my blog at: http://bloggernorm.blogspot.com/2012/05/patients.html
Hello.
I am here ... patient.
I am here and I - am - patience.
I am as patient as bedrock and black and silence.
I. I am here... and you are not very patient.
You are life.
You are motion and energy and noise.
You are life and you - are - oblivious.
I am growing ... my patient.
I am growing so slowly.
Slowly like trees and canyons and space.
II. I am growing...and you are slowing.
You are still life but...
You are wondering and wheezing and denying.
You are wondering and you - are - fear.
I have exploded ... patient.
I have exploded and I - am - rapacious.
I am operating and gorging and mutating.
III. I am exploding ... and you are fighting.
You are hope.
You are chemicals and beams and invocations.
You are hope and we - are - patients.
We are tired ... fellow patient.
We are tired and we - are - waiting.
Waiting for relief and peace and closure.
IV. I am here ... and we are inseverable.
We linger.
We are silence and acquiescence and patience.
We linger and we - are - gone.
Goodbye.
(c) 2012 Norman Dziedzic Jr.
Lately, I believe it would be fair to say that I've been on the horns of a dilemma when it comes to this blog thing. One thing that I've really come to value about writing here is the therapeutic nature of getting my bottled up thoughts out of my head and in front of my eyes, and the eyes of others.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.
