Friday, 26 September 2014
Friday September 26
Sunday, 21 September 2014
Sunday September 21
Poem from August
Swimming the lake, goggled,
There is black below
I try not to see.
Stroke lightly at the surface,
Silky water slips by,
The eddy ripples down my body.
Gravity on hiatus.
Looking up - dark green, jagged edged conifers.
white daubed blue sky,
Looking forward - the rippled water line.
Not looking down into the colder dark.
My fear lives down there.
In the campsite with my friends,
Forest, grass, ravens up high,
Sun, blue skies,
Cards, board games, talking, laughing, sharing snacks,
relishing this pause from responsibility and routine.
Yet, in my hammock I fail to stop the tears leaking out.
Why should we do these things we do that keep us busy?
Camping, playing, traveling, renovating.
For a spell, I fail to see any purpose.
I can't see joy in it.
It feels like nothing.
Sometimes, looking too deep under the surface, all I can see is dark.
LSaturday September 20
Almost three am, why am I still awake? Emphatically awake. The house is nice and quiet. My brain is full of thoughts.
Today we worked together and finally fixed the steps of the second front door. It's been two months my sister has been stepping up two steps high at the bottom and without a properly supported handrail. Now it's good. Several hours of laying on the dirt with my head under the steps and drilling and clamping and screwing screws. The steps are solid now. I'm happy and proud of us.
Mammogram
Waiting in the mammography waiting room. Funny little club of women in blue robes covering naked top halves. Street clothes from the waist down, each one of us with our red plastic baskets containing our shirts and bras and purses.
Thoughts in my head:
Do all hospitals have the same smell I wonder?
I think I have never been in a hospital that wasn't a teaching hospital.


















































