Tuesday, January 26, 2010


I know several people who are dealing with loved ones whose lives have been infected with cancer.  To me that is what it is; a contamination, a pollution, a corruption of precious, loved people.  I have heard the pain and anguish in their voices, seen the shock and bewilderment in their eyes.  It is like a bomb has exploded, everyone involved is wounded, and there is nothing to heal them.  Pain and disbelief bleeds from them.
Watching a loved one going through treatments, pain, suffering, and possibly the realization that there will be no future, is the most brutal and heartrendering experience.  There may be only one fatality, but there are many mortally wounded souls. 
Watching what these people, these friends, have been going through, and what I had once gone through with my grandmother, instilled in the  a need to write a poem.  And here it is:


I am not ready to say goodbye,
with many more memories to share
               and talks
                      and laughter.
Shells to gather
          vistas to behold.
I want birthdays and anniversaries,
holidays and vacations,
more to fill my heart.
I yearn to share skies
          freckled with waltzing stars,
vibrant sunrises
          peeking over hilltops,
lofty firs
          silhouetted in a stalking fog,
spherical raindrops
          jewelling emerald leaves,
vibrant butterflies
          dancing in a field of flowers,
and tranquil sunsets
          settling to sleep.
It is all more significant,
          more memorable shared.

I cannot bid adieu
                         to you.

I am not ready to say goodbye.


  1. Oh Rose, You've captured the pain of unfinished business. I hate the emptiness of events and sights that will not be shared.
    Are we selfish?
    Maybe. But I'm with you. I'm not ready to say goodbye.
    Thank you for your tender words.

  2. Beautiful Rose. You have captured the feelings so well.

  3. Thank you, Rose! I always "get" your poems. (can't say that for most poems!)

    My father-in-law was diagnosed (this month) last year with brain-bone-lung-liver cancer and given 3 to 6 months to live. He's now generating a fever every night so we may get a call any day since he's beat the death sentence by six months now.

    I know that Cancer is also big business. There's tons of money made and spent regarding cancer research and drugs. Cancer may be unfinished business with the soul, but cancer is big business in a consumerism and capitalistic society.

    I choose to focus on the value of the soul, and never bid adieu, but thank those who have died for what they have taught us about the science and delight of living life. Every cell in our body is precious. Every life on this planet-matters.

    We may not see the global connection or understand God's plan. But poems like this, make the misery so beautiful!

  4. "Lofty firs silhouetted in a stalking fog, . . ." Wowzer! You rock! Brilliant poem, my dear.

  5. Beautiful poem, Rose. That last line is so simple and yet so poignant.

  6. From my cousin, Carrol Ohlsen:
    Loved the poem, you have the gift of words that people feel but don't know how to express themselves. Thanks for that. I knew I was related to smart people! I also watched the interview of your Dad's. It was good to see him. I will have to go out one day to the fly field when I stop and see your folks as I travel through. Thanks again for your blog. Carrol