Tuesday, September 8, 2015

grampa's voluntary trip to anatomy lab (in memoriam)

remembering anatomy lab
where we curious butchers would go,
to plumb the depths of someone

searching for every muscle to name
taking off skin
sawing through bones

braving the formaldehyde
the cold
the gruesome reality of death

looking for diagnoses
finding heart attacks, implants, strokes, tattoos, cancers—
it really was fascinating-

… there was a strange excitement
that went along with each discovery
… we’d think about the patient

not for long about how they died,
instead we’d imagine a life,
usually a positive one

and we treated our patients with respect,
kindness, compassion,
though they wouldn't know

… but I wonder when my grandfather’s body
lay in their med school lab
… if they found his sadness…

his loneliness as the final cause of death…
the grief, the shame, the guilt,
that drove the last few years of his life

the frustration…
but also the kindness and the love
and the desire to understand

his ready laugh that was harder to evoke last year
his enchantment with children
his repetitive stories i loved

'I may not always be right
but I'm never wrong'
and how often he walked to get us donuts on Sundays... 

underneath the anxiety
that likely damaged his arteries
there was a sincere desire

he wanted his grandchildren
to be well and happy

alongside the resignation and despair
because he did not know how…

I wonder where we find that.
when medical students learn that.
I certainly didn't learn it in lab.

does someone you love have to die
for you to understand death- 
losing all my immediate family certainly didn't teach me-

does it require something more?

how do you teach an understanding of life inclusive of death?
making us grateful and present

for the lives we have while we have them

...he loved us so much
...I wish everyone could have known my amazing grandfather
...and be touched by his gregarious and optimistic love for everyone he met

Monday, September 7, 2015

estrogen day

I’m more than half in love 
with my imaginary portrait of you-
although we haven’t met-
all this time I keep noticing you

time and again convincing myself it is silly to wonder...
that you couldn't be what you seem...
that you work too hard...
and then my attention is caught again

because you seem to be looking for me
in words and books and poems
but when I wave you keep walking
and... that day I saw you see me?

I panicked a little,
lowered my eyes,
laughed with my friend…
of course you passed by

--I wondered what story about me your mind created
--since my friend was much older and male
--or if you even saw me at all
--but of course not, I didn't see 'you' either
--I haven't yet ever... has anyone?

I wonder if my eternal hopefulness
about a fairy tale (not necessarily you)
means I am delusional?
or bravely undaunted by previous failure!
(likely somewhere in between)

reminding myself this is entirely fantasy
while still hearing once upon a dream in my head…
{it is conveniently in my vocal range
so it seems silly not to sing it loudly and often}

ridiculous egotistical notions make me laugh daily:
I am different than other women,
and since I am so special, 
my daddy issues don't get in the way of reality...

[when I am different, but the same
I am special, as is everyone here
I am more mindful than last year
but still barely aware
I am learning to love
wanting to more than anything else
but encumbered by addiction to mind,
therefore terrible at it]

and so, in this realm of illusion,
I carry a little extra joy,
because you are in the world

and I am always wrong
about how my life will go
so I practice,
and keep waving

keeping my eyes open

for someone who dances with his mother
without codependence-
someone who is passionate
and works hard to help heal the world-
and for someone who might,

be interested, also, in knowing me