Saving Rescuers

I.

My love how wrong I am no star,
Somehow near but towards afar,
I leaned against your song.
Saving myself, I once sat up high –
Tall as a lifeguard tested and tried.

All zinc white nose, a clownish umbrella,

The angry preservation of a tune, a cappella.
Only block the violets from burning my skin.

Yet I rescind. Did I seek my mortal coil
Before drowning in the soil? So dusty.

Just before the burn wraps around my effigy,
Familiar arms grasp and pull you from the sea,
As your weight rises like an apogee –
Why must you make my job so hard?
A soaked coat draped over your bare

Hairless shoulder, While on the beach

Your chest fills with breath.

My waves, my shore.

II.

We slowly crest.
Yet you weigh nothing, even wet.
Simply the dearth of your will,
So short and without regard or debt.
We hear the oceans excess cheers,
And feel it’s drag upon our boney years.
Like an owl’s catty joke –
All height without heft. I let go
Just as you parade and poke
At the grievers and the bereft.
Stronger than knives or strokes and
Beleaguered, lonesome old oaks,
Together again, those wings, the trees,
Gasping at them as I forgot to sing.
Spanning years’ dimly stated demands
Its our last night in the Neverland.
And thus we fly away and apart –
Your good leg tied inside paper.
A pigeon homed to name the saint.
Save for you, I cannot restore restraint
Of discord’s time off or it’s application.
For now slippers of silver, icy with complaints,
For in the shadows of Mercury’s elation,

Heaving words, breaking bones, ingratiation.

Ever! and yet now you take your final stand?
Yet who but I deserved to walk in chains and receive all reprimands.

Not a single one dared, none but you understands.

Ilene

Female. East coast transplant living in the Bay Area of California. Living with Stage IV breast cancer. Married to the coolest guy in the universe who occasionally suffers from serious depression. Love my stepsons, although I never thought I'd have that thankless job - ever! And my best friend Simon is also my cat. How I have survived with stage IV: treatments including chemo and surgery; palliative oncology; tenacity; a dark sense of humor; support groups; and my newly reinvented career as a vintage and antiques maven. Some days I miss the old me who led a well respected and well paid life as a business strategist in high tech. So much for that. I blog to simply share my experiences and my poetic approach with others who have cancer of any kind or with their care givers and those who love them. If one person at the very least finds a little commonality or a friend out in the ether tor a smile, a common nod about this experience, or even a link to assistance, then I have accomplished a small but extraordinarily meaningful goal. Go team.

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