I found a poem I’d written two years ago, wobbly and foggy headed. Written from hospital bed high above the Seattle skyline. The surgeon had taken my thyroid, then a second surgery on heels of the first to stop an angry hemorrhage. Had a hard time stabilizing, and with day six of yet another bed-bound meal of jello and broth when it soaked in how good my life really was. Here’s to all of you out there struggling along, with an occasional patch of sunbeams and color peeking through the grey.
Jello red it shines
in Pudding bowl and waiting
And chicken broth a golden hot that warms me
All IV places swelling, bruised
Electric shocks into my hands
The wound from surgery still pains
And pressured chest from walking
But still red jello shines
The golden broth it warms
And beauty sings above the pain,
A song about my life.
Her eyes they brown as chocolate brown
A smile wide and joyful
His careful placing of the cuff
and working on the details
Raw I feel and wobbly
Too many days no shower
But still I see
Eyes bright and kind
One working on the details
And beauty sings above the pain.
A song about my life