Category Archives: compassion

16–“Pam” from “Frazzle”

I am grateful for the many gracious and generous people who came to my aid in my ongoing healing process. Some were in the medical realm. Some were family and friends, and some passed briefly through my life, perhaps delivering a few lines that gave hope or lifted me out of darkness.

It took me 9 months to assemble the poems from Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine—what to leave in, what to take out, the editing, re-writing, and designing. Then, I thought of it as a “lifeboat through hard times,” poems to perhaps give voice to loss and offer comfort. Now, I mostly see all the help that came to me on the journey: the walks, music, inner guidance, books, nature, people…

My poems act as memory. This poem tells the story of a woman who helped me years ago. And refers to the previous poem about the gifts of remodeling—clearing away what is no longer serving. I am a saver. I have a hard time letting go things that once were dear to me. One way I’ve found is to take photographs, as many as I need. And then let them go. (It can also help to find a good home for certain things, as in this case.)

Listen to “Pam,” Poem 16 from Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing: https://youtu.be/DfovFAC842U

Does this poem bring anyone to mind from your own life? Perhaps you were the “Pam” for someone else?

Listen to more video poems from “Frazzle”

THROWN AGAIN into the FRAZZLE MACHINE: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing

“Put Down the Sword of Self-Wounding” from “Frazzle”

This poem was inspired by a conversation in a parking lot with my friend, Geary Davis, who said one sentence that really soaked into me. I am grateful still.

Poem #12, “Put Down the Sword of Self-Wounding,” from my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing, is about a healing a particular relationship, the one with myself. Listen: https://youtu.be/wlekuqQpQ9k

5/28/09

Put Down the Sword of Self-Wounding

After talking to Geary about a ritual to ease pain

Put down the sword
of self-destruction
and self-immolation,

of self-defeat, self-demolition,
and self-defacing. Stop
stabbing myself in the vulnerable gut

in remorse, guilt, grief and regret
at what I could not
control or plan or shape.

Melt that sword
into the ploughshare
that carves the furrows

into which I place
the seeds I have been holding back.
Let forgiveness

flood the field,
let love shine upon them,
let the earth be fertile and loam-rich

and bountiful harvest my just reward.
After all the lifetimes
of all the dark and light alike

let my new life
result from a conscious new choice:
to put down the sword.

No more self-blame
self-criticism or self-judging,
no more crimson shame,

no more self-harsh words,
no more self-unkindness,
no more self-disrespect,

or screaming at myself
at perceived imperfections
or unbearable failings.

Only forgiveness
to the bone of things
to the bottom and top of memory,

forgiveness heaped
on forgiveness, eaten
at a great feast of forgiveness.

And when sated,
love as dessert and
as the main course ever after.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009

Does this feel at all familiar to you?

Listen to more video poems from “Frazzle”

In Response to Recent Events

11/9/16

Election Results

Even after tonight—
the darkest star-cast night—
the sun will rise on a new morning.
What we do, each and every one
with what hand has been dealt
defines us, shapes what comes.

Even in this uncertain fog
do not succumb to despair.
We have been there before
when the worst happened
a life-threatening diagnosis
and yet…
time passed and here we are.

To be loving in the midst of this
I know it is impossible yet
I ask … and promise.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

I wrote this poem out of a need to express strong feelings, one moment before reading a thoughtful Facebook post by Joyce DiDonato (opera singer, teacher, and healer). Her language was almost exactly the same as mine (synchronicity) and I commented about that, quoting the last three lines of this new poem. Through our loving intention (via the internet) we connected with many others. Here is the entire poem, perhaps it might speak to or for you. Please share if you think it could help someone. Thank you.

Sunset As the Road Home Darkens, Copyright 2016 by MDMikus

Poems for Jenny Cooper

Chicago Botanic Garden Copyright 2016 MDMikus

A few years ago, I connected on Facebook with Jenny Cooper, another member of Eric Whitacre’s Virtual Choir. She had a breast cancer diagnosis and I sent her my book, As Easy as Breathing: Reclaiming Power for Healing and Transformation, to help if it could. (I wrote the book during my own cancer journey.) She was in her thirties with a loving husband, Chris, and two young sons. She became a vigorous online presence, healthcare advocate and educator, putting up vivid, honest videos of her ongoing journey. Jenny chose to life fully in every way. Despite aggressive treatment, her cancer returned and continued to grow.

She went on hospice this summer and is now dying. I wrote these poems in the last few months in support and condolence, to help me as much as anyone. (My youngest sister was also dealing with stage 4 cancer, but is holding on at this point.) I stayed connected with both Jenny and her husband as she declined. I do not know why things happen as they do, but I do know that life has meaning. Jenny’s life touched so many and will continue to.

8/8/16

For Jenny Cooper
and Chris

In the mist
of dying
is the living
compressed

A hand to hold
is everything
a witness
to all of it

What is meaning
anyway, but
knowing you will be
missed

One way you leave
other ways you stay
no way to not be
remembered

Your own personal
flavor of immortality
your peace-heart
expanding out to the sky

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

8/25/16

For Jenny—One of Our Virtual Choir Family

What did you think
the end would look like?
Not this pain and suffering
more medications not covering
more drugged sleeping.

The bubble you live in
becoming smaller and smaller
time with husband and boys shorter.

Yes, the bucket list accomplished
the daily online posts
that express and convince
connecting still to the outside.
But why is this?
And why you?
A mystery as all of it
unfolds relentlessly.

9/10/16

All the Days Are Numbered

Jenny and Chris Cooper

This is what dying looks like
on the good days
like living but sharper
like living but clearer
like living but deeper
the choices and chances more limited now

What is important cuts through the clutter
to take a pain-free breath
to savor a juicy peach
to hear your child’s laugh
to look in the eyes of, talk with,
hold the hand of your beloved

This is what the end looks like up close
at the edge of the unknown
all the love you have gathered to you
all the love you sent back out
This…noticing. This profound…awareness
of the part the path you walk alone…
and never alone, entirely still.

Please share this post if it might help anyone.

Dealing with Darkness

I don’t think I am alone in feeling a lot of personal darkness these days. The news is filled with it. A Facebook post yesterday from Karla McLaren, M.Ed., reminded me of this poem from my CD, Full Blooming:Selections from a Poetic Journey. I chose poems for the CD to represent all of life and this was one aspect. Please feel free to share. Thank you.

12/22/02

Darkness So Absolute

When I am in the darkness
so absolute no light escapes or enters,
I can consider the idea that light exists
and remember and reminisce.

Though the tunnel seems eternal,
and I navigate by running ragged hands along rough walls,
I am willing to entertain the possibility
that eventually I will again escape into sun.

It has already been decided,
much to my relief, that I will not take my life;
love binds me here and I accept that as fact.
And so, in darkness, I sit or I walk

or I wait or I pray for the lifting of heavy sky.
And thus far, it has always lifted.

Listen my reading on track #40. The CD is available in digital or physical form.

cd-cover

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