Autumn 2018
has brought me loss from within
and loss from without
and the beautiful days
that are natures gifts before the cold gray of winter
cannot thaw the chill I feel.
I lost my mom to the cancer that so often follows
organ transplants,
The medications that kept my kidney functioning in Mom's body
also, as it turned out, nurtured cancer cells.
My mom didn't ask for the cancer,
and aside from taking her anti-rejection medications
faithfully, so faithfully,
she did nothing to invite the cancer to grow.
But in taking the anti-rejection medications
she accepted the risk.
She took a chance, dabbled in the odds
and lost.
But she lost with grace and strength.
She set the terms and made the rules for how her life would end
and those of us who went with her on the final journey
were humbled and empowered .
The United States at this moment in history--
as it has been many moments before in history--
is not unlike my Mom in some ways.
Our country is plagued
by a cancer of hatred and vicious entitlement.
Money hastens the spread and
the toxic cocktail of privileged white males and power
undermines healing.
Whether our collective ultimate fate
will be civil war,
or the disintegration of our great democratic experiment,
or a slow national descent into factions, fear and politically approved
emotional and physical brutality
I cannot say.
Those who share the chill I feel
never asked for our country to be this way,
and aside from trying to live everyday lives of respect
and compassion and hope,
had no intention to invite the hated to grow.
Now I go on social media
and read postings by people I know,
people I care about and love,
who are mistaking hatred for care
and mistaking vicious entitlement for fairness.
And I hide their posts,
heartsore and confused,
my chill and fear spreading further
as each day passes.
A hopeful flame flickers inside me
that we can somehow right the wrongs before us
and heal
and rebuild.
But loss is a heavy thing
and the chill immobilizes
and the cancer spreads.
