Please Excuse this Poem! I’ve been trying to share an original poem each day in April, for National Poetry Month, and in order to give a quick update on how Annette’s treatment is going and how we’re holding up, I’m multi-tasking and putting the update in poem form. My apologies to poetry haters [insert sarcastic cackle here.]
Gifts on the Porch
for a little girl, she hugs big
and those hugs, after two weeks away
refilled, what were our hearts bursting
with only ache and worry
outside our doorstep
packages of love from afar or next door
priceless gifts of Clorox wipes, N95 masks
books, delicious dishes, expensive soaps
chicken soup in a box, delivered
by a brown truck, spinning a 360
skidding backwards down the street
gifts of laughter
often, like the designer soap
mystery gifts, who sent this?
how to give thanks to the anonymous?
how to return the favor
to the health workers, delivery people,
and first responders?
each day we walk, together
down the road we know
and the one we don't
the destination undetermined
games of tag and stick your face
into the snow
her energy, like the spring sun
grows with each passing moment
the new minutes, small gifts
and the cough that brought us here
is all but gone, one week after chemo
the kids roll snowballs
first on the porch
they grow too big
not unlike this concept of cancer
but they help their mom
pick the perfect wig
she will need, as the chemicals
accumulate like each snowflake
building to crush the tumor
the sun breaks through the clouds
and we stack the boulder size balls
add a hat, scarf, rocks for eyes
a carrot and smiles
endless is our gratitude
for the gifts given
and those we create
and celebrate