Poetry Friday round-up is with Sally Murphy.
I have five friends currently battling breast cancer. This daily battle is heart-wrenching and hard. They are sharing their journey with me and others. It seems all I can do for them is pray or cry or write a poem.
On Monday, Kim wrote this: “As you know, chemo wreaks havoc on the immune system. It lowers red and white blood counts and one specific type of white blood cell–the neutrophil–is especially critical because it plays an important role in fighting infection. If a chemo patient develops a fever, it sounds the alarm that the neutrophil concentration has likely fallen below 1000 and spurs doctors to take immediate action. If not treated with a strong course of antibiotics, the patient could develop a potentially life threatening infection. So, chemo comes with a strong warning: take fevers very seriously.”
On Tuesday, Sarah wrote this: “Exposed, hurting, lying on what seems like a narrow mortician’s table in a cavernous room, alone, encapsulated by an enormous machine shooting me with targeted radiation all in the name of cancer — I am a science experiment.”
On Wednesday, Amy wrote this: “What do you wear to hear the results of your pet/ct scan? A crown of course. Well I got good news and not so go news. The not so good news is the cancer is growing and has shown up in two new places. We’ll be looking at new treatment options at MD Anderson. The good news is my doctor said I can ride roller coasters at Disney next week. Bring it!! Thanks to all who have shown their concern and who have prayed for me. Please continue – the road just got bumpy.”
In Laura Shovan’s Daily February Writing Challenge, the image of a beautiful ocean scene came up, but all I could see was the dirty sand and the crashing waves. I released my growing worry and concern in a poem.
Low Tide by Andrea Lavoie
Low Tide
That sand is frozen brown grass
flowing like the folds of a blanket,
fluffed and tucked over
the patient’s bed.Does it comfort or scratch?
Cover or annoy?Skin is sensitive with fever.
Chemo burns through her veins,
poison that saves
even as the waves
of a raging ocean
recede with the tide.It’s the pull of the moon
holding her in a glowing stare.
Where is the silver lining?–Margaret Simon, (c) 2018 for Kim, Sarah, Amy, Kelley, and Sandy
Reflections on the Teche 
Terrible beauty….the first words that come to mind. Terrible that so many suffer this disease—and dear ones close to your heart. Beauty in the poem that releases. You all have my prayers for healing.
Where is the silver lining, indeed! Thank you for sharing your poetry. It’s beautiful and thoughtful. I have all these people in my thoughts and prayers.
This poem builds in power as it goes along. That glowing stare of the moon is haunting. I’ll be thinking of your friends today, Margaret.
Thank you for expressing feelings many of us share but cannot put into words. I love the poem and painting. Praying for all.
When you are worried, everything reminds you, doesn’t it? Wishing comfort and cover to your friends, Margaret.
Oh my goodness, I am so, so sorry to hear about your friends. Cancer is just the absolute worst. I was able to meet several cancer patients over the last year during my Dad’s treatment, and each and every one of them amazed me with their strength and resilience. Wishing you and your friends comfort and strength and sending lots of love to you during this difficult time.
As a recent cancer survivor, I can fully appreciate every word of your post today. Mostly I appreciate your poem as a tribute to those battling cancer. I wish I’d had a poem like that to turn to when I was struggling. Cancer is like a tide…it ebbs and flows, but with no predictability. Sending waves of strength and courage to your friends today and oceans of love to your for using your craft so beautifully.
I am so sorry to hear about your friends. I love that you were able to release your worries. We can all relate.
Wow! The pain comes through so eloquently.
I am so sorry your friends are going through this. Life is just not fair. But your poem does what poetry does (as expressed by Charles Bukowski): it frames agony and hangs it on the wall.
I’m so sorry about your friends. Your poem is a powerful expression of our feelings of helplessness when people we love are suffering.
Yow. FIVE friends battling at once. Stay strong. They need you.
I read when you posted on the sight, have been thinking of you and your friends since, Margaret. Your love in the poem shows them how you care for them, are there for them. It’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Hugs to you, too!
Margaret, this is simply beautiful. I love the placement of the questions. Yes, it is sad, but the love behind your words is palpable. Each of these brave ladies will be deeply touched.
Raw, honest, full of compassion for your friends… thank you for sharing, Margaret. So hard to watch our loved ones go through it. Praying for Kim, Sarah, Amy, Kelley, and Sandy, and for you, such a dear friend.
Low tide indeed, rough dirty sand, crashing, cleansing waves of chemicals. Your poem captures their pain and your empathy, Margaret.
Your poem reveals layers that many feel but never share, thanks for sharing these difficult feelings. My thoughts are with you and your friends, and that distant silver lining, I wish it would appear.
Oh Margaret – what a hauntingly beautiful poem. I can feel your pain and the pain of so many of us in those words. Hugs to you – and your friends – from across the world
Your poem is raw, haunting, and stunningly beautiful. Thank you for sharing. May your loved ones win the battles they are fighting.