Dimensions of Hope in Illness

Perhaps the greatest challenge we face is the radical loss of health; the companionship of physical and emotional pain. "Currents" characterizes the uncertainty of life, yet there is a promise of hope as we are carried through life's currents; sometimes being thrown on the rocks of severe illness or relational loss. This poem was inspired when a dear friend fell over some rapids and landed on the rocks below.

"Fountain" reminds us that in our dark hours we thrive on hope. After hearing a dreaded pronouncement from a physician I gained renewal beside a fountain inside a tropical conservatory. Today I bask in health. The possibility is there for you as well when you cast in your offering of hope.

"Prognosis" acknowledges the severe blast that comes from hearing the pronouncement cancer from a physician. The fear and darkness overtaking us masks the brilliance of day. Yet, in the blackness of night, stars offer us a map to Hope beyond our hour of suffering.

"Silver Lining" tells us that good came come from this great trial. A cancer patient inspired this poem when she told me that cancer had taught her just how blue the sky really is and how priceless friendship really is. Years after her diagnosis she lives radiantly.

"Respirator" comes from the inspiration of a physician who has lived forty years in an iron lung as a result of severe polio during his medical training. He was able to transcend his challenge, support a family, and practice forty years of compassionate medicine and write his story for me to read. One day he will not need his respirator.

"Thief" describes the robbery of life's spirit by depression. While in a grocery story on a Sunday afternoon I observed several people in the depths of depression, unable to see the cerulean brilliance of an October day. Yet, for them there are Possibilities.

"Tumor" portrays the perceived finality of neoplasm run amok in our bodies. Susie lost a battle to tumor but her Hope, and mine, says she will in the long run win the war; perhaps has already done so.

"Virus" describes the emotional and physical carnage that occurs when a viral epidemic sweeps through equatorial Africa. Unseen, unknown, they transform tranquility to horror. Yet, Hope has a place in the viral battlefields of Africa. Belgian nuns died for that Hope in Kenya, fighting disease.


Currents

We wade into life's uncertain waters,
forfeiting security in firm foundations.

Buoyant with frivolity, faith, fantasy;
Fate carries us beyond archived memory.

Reliving adolescent arboreal adventures,
we leap into the river's enfolding embrace.

Hand in hand we drift onward, downward;
above, dappled canopies resonating with song.

Iridescent impossibilities, curious, inquiring,
show off their airborne entomologic wonders.

Distant thunder, barely audible, quietly screams;
sun-drenched tranquility dispersed by foreboding.

Reality sweeps us into frenzied free fall,
lacerating us on scabrous edges of cold terror.

Neoplastic swirls pulling you under,
I struggle to revive you with Hope.

White water inundating your soul,
we cling to a Promise of still waters.

Evening Star reflected in dusky stillness,
malignant despair transmutes to serenity.

The hoot owl is silent.


Fountain

In profound darkness we walked;
tribulation of uncertainty before us.

Pain masking brilliance of day,
You were there in our shared gloom.

Frolicking in Your effervescent flow,
feathered messengers chirped assurance.

Myriad coins of the realm glisten;
offerings for unspoken dreams.

In poverty of spirit we made a gift,
mingling secrets with those of others.

Basking in Your alabaster basins,
we shared sumptuous refreshment.

In the tumult of Your cascade,
a sprout of Hope was watered.

My wish has come true.


Prognosis

Tropical summer breezes cooling cobalt heavens,
delectate contentment warms my satiated soul.

Feathered celebrants sing melodies of life;
effervescent ocean waves of gentle renewal.

Crustacean curiosities scamper before me,
dancing on sands of crystalline brilliance.

Frolicking in foamy fantasy,
my feet create motifs of jubilation.

Tomorrow holds aureate possibilities,
faith stemming from today's sterling reality.


Unnoticed, small harbingers form at empyrean edge,
scudding across the burnished skies of being.

Standing before your throne of judgement,
frigid fear freezes my heart mid-beat.

Overflowed by the thunder of your words,
breakers of dread plunge me in darkness.

Swells of apprehension agitate my spirit;
mottled with panic, hope, anguish, pleas.

Setting sun sends chills through me,
ominous certainty of demise before me.

In the astral diamonds of blackest night,
His glittering Hope is made manifest.


Respirator

Shadow creeps across your spirit,
uncertainty crystallizing in your soul.

Your heart throbbing with dark foreboding,
sacred sleep has been driven from night.

In darkness of night you cry out in loss,
once you danced, made love, laughed, dreamed.

An unseen hideous power robs you,
consigning you to prisons of stillness.

Your sinews rendered impotent,
blessed breath of life eludes you.

Your days merge into endless winter,
myriad joys of summer nearly forgotten.

Engineers keep you breathing,
their machines mocking your vitality.

In the far recesses of your anguish,
Hope germinates, giving grand possibilities.

He shall wipe away every tear from your eyes,
and there shall no longer be any death.

There shall no longer be any mourning, crying, pain.


Silver Lining

Your name provokes malignant dread,
chasing tranquility into yesterday's dreams.

Neoplastic anxiety contaminates day,
transmuting dazzling brilliance to ominous shadow.

White-coated harbingers of pronouncement,
proclaim your morbid knock at my door.

Searing winds of uncertainty leave me breathless,
teetering, falling back, crying, grieving.

Sleepless nights drive me to exhausted slumber,
cooling incendiary fears of your wrath.

Night gives way to dawn's translucence,
illuminating thunderheads of trepidation.

Afternoon showers refreshing my wounded soul,
sprouts of possibility rise in the ashes of my future.

Transected by solar fires, clouds yield,
entrancing me with grand cerulean majesty.

Cosmic jewels mark the Way in coming night,
constellations of friends holding my hands.

Cancer, you have opened my heart to life.


Thief

Wandering among succulent possibilities,
your path crosses mine, giving me pause.

Wondering where your journey has taken you,
I search your face for life's igniting spark.

In unguarded moments, glistening with sadness,
your melancholy eyes reveal a ransacked soul.

Joy fills radiant afternoons of Indian summer,
yet your heart has been robbed of jubilation.

Astral brilliance fills empyrean canopies,
yet your spirit shivers in frigid shadow.

Once dancing to cosmic euphonies;
your life's melody has been plundered

Once you giggled with child-like glee.
Depression's malefactor has stolen hope.

Hearing only the solitude of despair,
silence screams with your anguish.

Unto us a child is born.


Tumor

They tell us you will win,
that the odds are in your favor:
Glioblastoma 98%, life 2%.

For now we empower you with our fear, our pain.
We anguish for those that you have beaten;
those cut down in their springtime.

My young flower spends her day in darkness,
yet the sun brightly shines.
You gloat over your cruel victory.

You tell us to live a life of dread, of fear,
to know only hopelessness, loss, pain.

Another came to tell us "I come that you might have life,
that you might have it abundantly."
He says "And the dead shall rise again."

My flower will bloom again ...

again ...

again ...


Tumor, you have lost!


Virus

Your virulence diminishes equatorial brilliance,
driving us into fearful darkness.

Tropical abundance, exuberant with life,
is silenced in dreaded anticipation.

Unseen, barely alive, without thought,
you crash through the canopy of life.

Invisible harbingers of hopeless horror,
you transmute hope to anguish and pain,

Your crystalline matrix making mockery,
transfigures vitality to languor.

With reckless abandon you vanquish,
only to perish in your carnage of greed.

Fragrant whispers of Hope sooth my soul,
speaking of Something beyond heinous horror.

A still small Voice speaks of One,
who has prepared a Place for me,
in the presence of my enemies.