Category Archives: gratitude

Mini-Review of 2010, Part 1

I remember 2010 as a very difficult year. And in many ways, that is true. But when viewed from a bit of distance, it was mixed, really, with low and high points. I don’t want to spend too much time there, but I do want to wrap it up as a way of going forward. First: the challenges. Last: the delights.

Today’s topic: A Major Challenge.

In February, 2010, after many months of body-mind-spirit energy healing work, I had my third surgery for an abdominal hernia, repairing damage partly due to previous surgeries. There were unexpected post-surgery complications, pain, and a long recovery. Not much writing. For a while I was physically unable to write and mentally foggy. I also did not want to remember the details, which caused flashbacks. Here are two short poems and photos from that time.

2/11/10

Comfort

Sometimes the need for comfort is so acute,
the circumstances so dire and dark,
the vortex you are pulled into so nightmarish,

everything taken away: food, water, sleep, all the familiar,
that you can’t find yourself within yourself,
you are a skin filled with nothing in particular

and it seems you will always be lost.
Even if someone is there who knows you well,
whose voice is the tether to reality,

who casts the line, holds the rod that reels you in,
even then
the need for comfort is so great

that anything from home,
any ice chip or thoughtfulness,
any kindness or generous voice

calls you back to hopefulness.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

2/24/10

Room on Cardiology Floor

I can still feel her surprisingly soft lips
pressing on my forehead,
a good bye and good luck kiss as she left.

My roommate, sweet Italian lady,
both of us not our best, faces pale,
hair tangled and matted.

Her husband, most kind, friendly
and hopeful. Full of stories with
ambulances and happy endings. How he’d

been recognized in the grocery store by the ambulance driver.
How she’d had a seizure maybe
and he’d carried her to the door

though he had a pacemaker and they were older.
And all her surgeries and still her spunk.
“Good bye,” she said, “It will be fine,”

or something like that in her gentle Italian accent,
pressed into my hopeless forehead.
Unexpected, spontaneous, natural, and welcome.

Three weeks later I feel the kiss still.
Her easy gesture, her faith,
her sweet kindness.

Of course she was right.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

Tomorrow: the Delights

Often Unsung Heroes

What a pleasure reading my poem, “Mantles of Transformation,” (see previous post) for the large, enthusiastic group that showed up at the Artists Reception for the Women’s Journeys in Fiber Retrospective Exhibit! It took place in the old Dole mansion built in the 1860’s that is slowly being restored by the community. Very cool! Interesting contrast between the 100 pieces of vibrant, colorful art with the intricate wood trims and their peeling paint, the lofty ceilings and crumbling walls (not yet restored). The art and the good company nourished me yet again.

In one of those pre-sleep flashes the night before, I remembered I had written a new poem for Jan Gerber, the curator and coordinator of ten years of these fiber arts projects. I read the poem to see if it seemed “settled” and gave it to her as a surprise.

Then I began my reading with this recent poem. What of yourself do you see in her?

11/23/09

For Jan Gerber

You are the seed crystal,
the often unsung hero,

the gatherer, the glue,
the creative spark,

the tranquil reflecting pool,
the gypsy fortune teller.

The one who risks,
the nurturer,

the shock absorber,
the way seeker,

the book maker,
the curator, the midwife,

creator of the grand design,
the one who keeps on.

The dreamer
and follower of the dream.

Trust, patience, truth,
good humor, good heart,

intelligence, hope,
inspiration, courage.

Listener, speaker,
avid student, natural teacher.

Persistent. Determined.
Enthusiastic. Resilient.

Kind and generous.
What of myself

is mirrored in you?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2010

Choice Point

It is a miracle! The blog “mechanism” allowed me to copy/paste from Word and post this poem! I forgot my past frustration and difficulties and started to put this poem in, then remembered that “It” hadn’t been allowing me to put even one letter from Word into this blog. Oh, do it anyway. Then!! Amazing!! It worked!!

Which means that I can again—easily—share my work on this blog. That light you see is the big smile on my face. As if the Universe is again aligned on my behalf. Silly, I know, but still…

I have been sharing this recent poem with friends, so I am sharing it with you too. As always, many things were swirling around that influenced this piece. Mary Jane is an interior designer (and lovely person) who is interested in healthy environments. I got to know her at the perfect time right before we were going to paint our house. Stephenie Meyer is the author of the very popular Twilight series, which I began reading when William Bloom, recommended them in an email newsletter and then my daughter asked me to read them with her. I already had the first book on my shelf. You know how sometimes you buy a book then it takes a while to actually read it? (Once I started, I gobbled all four of them up.) And finally, I noticed that I had recently met a number of men who were divorced and who struggled with that. This poem is dedicated to them. Of course it could be about any life-altering event.

10/17/09

From Mary Jane and Stephenie Meyer

For Ira, Bob, Geary and Eric

Something that shatters
pre-existing life structure
stretching out to the foreseeable future.

No restoration
of equilibrium
or the familiar,

the details
don’t matter:
a choice point where

all is divided into
before…and after
and darkness is the dominant color,

the decisive end…of what was,
the promising beginning…of what is:

verdant, vivid vibration,
riot of sensation,
vibrant colors of all description,

almost beyond bearing.

You get to the point
where you say this
lightening bolt that struck me

was the best thing
that ever happened.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009

Gratitude

The radio was on in the background as we were having Sunday breakfast and reading the newspaper. It was a program of classical music from South America, one piece from each country. The conductor came on before each one to introduce the music. Before one of the pieces he said something like: the composer’s wife and child had been in a head-on collision and the composer named this composition for her. I believe he also said that they had survived. It got me thinking about the preciousness of time. And how we don’t choose how much time we have we have with those we love. And this poem popped out. I was thinking of my husband, but it really applies to everyone I encounter.

4/26/09

Inspired by Something
Partly Heard on the Radio

I do not know
how much time
I have with you.

I read the stories
or avoid reading them
of all the sad, tragic

things that happen
and tears run down my face
in sympathy, in empathy

whether I would stop them
or not. I know this dark place.
But yet, I do not

want to know the limits
of the hours, the minutes
I have with you.

What good would that do?
Just to be here
where you are

for as long
as there is…
and be grateful.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2009