Category Archives: grieving

32–“Thanksgiving Grieving” from “Frazzle”

Dad’s Planes by Margaret Dubay Mikus, Copyright 2016

“I can see him sitting there
so plainly on the kitchen chair,
cutting giblets for stuffing and gravy,
wanting help or company…”

From poem 32, “Thanksgiving Grieving,” in my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing. Listen here: https://youtu.be/1JMbsGNangA

I prepare in the moment for the day’s reading. Although I wrote the book and have read it many times, I don’t look ahead at what poems are coming. As it turned out, I was taken by surprise by today’s poem, “Thanksgiving Grieving,” which was very emotional to read. The first several times through I couldn’t get to the end without tears. I wanted to skip this one (who would notice, really?) and yet…

I’m committed to this task set out before me: one poem a day, from start to finish of “Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine.” It is not about perfect performance in an ideal world, rather it is you and me sitting at my old maple kitchen table and I’m reading as honestly and as best I can right then. My purpose in that moment is to deliver that poem. Always a part of me wants to get it “right.” Even if that is safer, it may not be as human, as healing, as powerful. I trust. I stay with my inner guides, breathe, do my best, and let it go, as open-hearted as I can.

Note: We are still at the beginning of the book. This poem begins a long narrative thread about our parents, my Dad who had passed on years before, and the other three remaining. All woven into the fullness of life.

Is there some loss you have already dealt with, that can overtake you unexpectedly? Blessings.

For more poem videos from the “Frazzle” series

Poems for Jenny Cooper

Chicago Botanic Garden Copyright 2016 MDMikus

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.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

 

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.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

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Do Not Let Your Heart Close

10/17/16

After New Yorker Podcast

Do not let your heart close
no matter
no matter
I know what is inside and out
the dark desperation you may

never speak of…
yet there it is
no matter
no matter

The shadow that follows
the shadow released into the world
and no one knows what will happen
no matter
no matter

Do not let your heart close in fear
or protection (if you can)
without at least a sliver open
How else can the light get in
how will your light—
yes, even you…and you…
how will your light
activate a germinating seed
becoming a green shoot…a tender bud
a fully realized blossom?

You may despair for a moment
but do not live there.
Why did you choose
to come here and come now?

You don’t remember,
but I do.
Everywhere around you
is something beautiful
some kindness. Be generous.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

Written a few weeks ago in the midst of that craziness. With some Leonard Cohen influence and so it seemed appropriate for today, to honor his passing.

November 11, 2016, Backyard Sky and Trees, (c) MDMikus

November 8, 2016, Backyard Sky and Trees, Copyright MDMikus

Poem: Election Day This Tuesday

11/6/16

Election Day This Tuesday

two days before

The limits have been tested
and found to be limitless
of what would be believed
despite the factual evidence
when despair and desperation sets in
and along comes a slippery cynical con man.
What is belief but trusting
without seeing the water to wine
drinking the Kool-Aid when told it is time.
Hypnosis on a mass scale
without the ability to read or reason
the ground becomes sky
and the sky is falling.
And here we are with our roles to play
in the greater drama unfolding
without assurances or certainty of safety
will we —as a country—
be on the wrong side of history?
What has been set in motion is no less
than revealing the deepest shadows
lancing the boil that was always there
but ignored. Loosening the noose
that might have eventually strangled
healing the chasm between “us” and “them”
and re-building…stronger together.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016

Reading this poem now, it seems prescient. But at the time, it looked like Hillary Clinton was going to be the next president of the United States. I was trying to express some of the craziness and turmoil that seemed to be all around.

For those of us who had hoped for an inclusive, historic, and continuing progressive path for our country, there is a time for grieving and that will be ongoing for a while. There is also a time to do what we can. “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” (Arthur Ashe) This is that time. I am a poet. I am a healer. This recent poem is what I can offer right now as support. Perhaps it speaks to you or for you. Perhaps it offers some clarity or calmness or perspective. The work is never over. Who are you in relation to all this? Who are you becoming by your choices? As opera singer (teacher and humanitarian), Joyce Didonato, is asking: “In the midst of chaos, how do you find peace?” Please share.

November Walk, MDMikus Copyright 2016

November Walk, MDMikus Copyright 2016

After Orlando

Do you know the Native American story about the grandfather telling about the two wolves we have inside us? This poem is partly from that story and from the Orlando shooting and all the others that continue unrelenting. An effort to work things through.

6/13/16

After Orlando
more becoming known

We are on permanent vigil as events
swirl and darken and repeat unrelenting
as petitions are again signed hopefully
as if that is the answer to everything

Not to knock petitions, I’ve signed my share
but once signed to relax as if
the signing was the action, the change?

All around is dark and light
Inside are the two kinds of wolves
Graphs can tell us some facts interpreted

but who creates the world we breathe in
Is this one of an infinite number
from all the choices that have been made?

Or is this the result of some agreement or
an earth school we knowingly signed onto
to learn something or unlearn something

to release or take on
becoming who we are…more loving?
And the two wolves we all have inside

one generous and loving, one angry and hate-filled
which one wins the fight was asked?
The one you feed.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016