Day 199

By Kathleen O’Brien

I don’t want to change,
Or rather I do.
I want to go back.
Before the multiple tests not 
explaining the fatigue,
the fever.

Before the bright red
blood on the beautiful 
blue linoleum.
Before the call to 911.
Before the two young
men in their crisp
uniforms, vital enough but
waiting for two more
to carry John down the
narrow stairs.

He was a big man.
A bear of a man.

Before the sling, and the dark,
And following the sway of
Ambulance in Bill’s truck.

Before the words: 
“We found spots”
Before the word Cancer
And stomach, liver, lungs.
Before the loss of the right hand.
Before words getting tangled
and the Neuro code.

Before the words “Oh God”
Before the words:
He’s gone.
He’s back.
He’s gone.

At the age of seven, Kathleen received a tiny memo pad intended to contain her wee poems about fairies.  And from time to time she did write poetry, mostly unseen by others. Meanwhile, she is more widely known for publishing books, articles, and papers on the benefits of sustainable building, and tending to the health of our planet and the people trying to make a life on it. She is mostly retired, living in Bainbridge Island, Washington.