Twp days ago the arrow of mortality plunged into me; since that day I have endured lancing pain in my right side, my liver. I suppose it is a reminder that I am slipping away? This new develpment more than hints that my latest round of chemotherapy is not slowing the growth of my cancer.
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I cannot complain since I have had virtually no problems worth speaking of to date. I will be continuing my chemotherapy treatments and get a CT scan reassessment probably around April or so. The staff at the Genesis Center where I go and Dr. Muldoon continue to be supportive and affirming.
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Queen Janita, my lovely daughter, and Jeffrey, my son should be arriving for a visit fairly soon (to be announced). Paul might then be able to escape for a bit from the house for a few days. Perhaps he will motor down to Louisiana? I hope so. He needs a bit of fresh air and a change of scenery.
Pain is hard to banish from the old noggin'. I suppose I will have to focus on prophesy and the power of the mind and spirit to mend the broken bones of this world and not on my seemingly limited power to do the same for myself. To "prophesy" in the style of Ezekiel should ease the pain...
Judy (via jeff)
(excerpt from Amputated Moon by Pamela Olsen)
The Lord set me down in the valley,
the fertile crescent beginning.
It was full of bones: clavicle, carpal, calcaneus
lying in the valley: fabella, femur, fibula
and they were very dry. hamate, hyoid, humerus
He led me around them: ilum, incus, lacrimal
in a slow dance: parietal, patella
kicking up the bone dust: sacrum, scapula, sternum
stirring the breath of God. tibia, talus, turbinate
Can these bones live?
Higher, higher they are piled
800,000-plus dry bones
wrapped with sacred cloth: red, whte and blue
young, strong bones
groaning in their sorrowful hymn.
Still I dance around
Seventeen-million more bones
lying on their natal ground.
And the dust swirls
forming a cloud of garnet
raising the scent of blood.
Listen, mortal,
your brother’s blood
your sister’s blood is crying,
crying out to me from the ground.
The sobs form the walls of this valley
and its rhythm-beat
drives your dance.
Then He said to me,
Prophesy to these bones, mortal.
So I prophesy.
The bones fall together
end to end: metatarsal, malleus
bone to bone: maxilla, vertebrae
sinews and flesh echo in the waiting silence.
Prophesy to the breath, mortal.
I prophesy,
and the breath comes from the north
and the breath comes from the south
and the breath comes from the east
and the breath comes from the west
The dead cry out—
our bones are dry,
our hope is lost;
each hour more join our valley with no end in sight.
Who will see us?
Who will hear us?
Who will bring us peace?
And the Lord said,
Prophesy mortal, prophesy.
(based on Ezekiel 37)
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