Steve arrived home from Dubai as I got home, so we are each quickly computering before we go out to eat.
I am placing my poems from this morning time with Jane, here, though now they feel a bit out-of-date.
Last week, Kimberly took photos of me with Flamin'. She gave them to me today. In a way, it is my first time seeing myself with this little bit of hair. I look very happy in the pictures. I am very happy.
Today was another glorious horse day. We guide the horses with our sit bones, and it is quite the treat. Today, I learned when I sink down, the horse stops and there, we are, resting together as one. Oneness seems to be my theme today. I think I am learning to unify. It is raining outside, and cold in the house. 56 last time I checked. PGE comes tomorrow to see what is up. Here are my morning poems.
To My Plant Friends - (the second day after the end of treatment. Who am I?)
My dreams tell me I don’t need anything.
In them, I’ve lost all possessions.
I have no home.
I consider, and I am fine.
I still ingest, and eliminate,
but life here, whatever here is,
demands a call to PG&E
I have no heat or hot water,
and the fog is in and it is cold
and I would enjoy a hot shower
and yet, I don’t call -
I listen to the birds
and sit with leaves as companions.
Their laps unfold
and I place myself in them,
and I wrap
in one leaf after another -
I need soft, gentle care,
breath, the breath of leaves, Oxygen.
I need it now, like a drug, a fix.
I request, “Can you jump pump your breath
right into my veins? Can I drink like a bug?”
And I do.
I rest in the curve of the breath,
the trumpet call
People who only know me with no hair,
and hats, think I look beautiful,
but my friends who knew me before
still look shocked -
who am I -
I am soft and scared -
tears come now like opossums in the night -
marsupial am I -
my pouch holds shards of fear.
I reach now to wash the shards in the stream,
like a raccoon his hands,
and all disappears.
I feel shaky.
I learn that the cervix needs several years
after having a pap test.
No wonder I still shiver as though I am on the table
with a huge machine wrapped around me.
I am scared.
I am cold, and I have no gas, literally.
My gas connection to my house has gone out,
and Mandu snuggles close, wondering what is up
with his morning heat vent,
and he and I know we can survive
because we do,
and one day our pilot light will go permanently out
and we will understand
the beauty of this world,
the elements, fire, water, earth, and air,
connected end to end,
climbing the bars hand over hand,
life over death,
again and again.