Datura Unopened, Copyright 2008 by MD Mikus,
From “Melting,” from my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing.
“…This puddle of you,
this chrysalis,
this butterfly in the making,
in transition,
that familiar rough patch
neither here nor there….”
Although I wrote this poem in 2009, under quite different circumstances, I am again in that place right now. You?
Listen here to poem 24: https://youtu.be/ahlWyKgPyi4
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
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
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
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
Please share this post if it might help anyone.
Sunset Walk, Copyright 2016 by MD Mikus
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
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.
Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2002
Listen my reading on track #40. The CD is available in digital or physical form.
State Street, Chicago Copyright 2012 MDMikus
I wrote this poem when I was a mentor for a 7th grade girl through the Spark Program. I would drive 30 miles into Chicago and we’d meet at an Argo Tea shop downtown after school. After a snack, we’d talk about and read poetry. She’d write from prompts I gave her or her own ideas, and plan and carry out her project.
In 2012 the high school graduation rate for Chicago public schools was low, about 60%. The Spark Program (begun in San Francisco, now in four cities) was meant to give individual attention and apprenticeships to students to encourage them to stay in school and graduate. I wrote while I waited for her to come, and in my car afterwards, and elsewhere inspired by the whole process. I also took Chicago photos, which I love to do (see above). She ended up creating an amazing collection of her poems paired with her vividly colorful designs (including glitter stickers) and presenting it to the entire group at the end. Very cool!
Here is one of my own “Spark” poems:
(Spark #2)
A door opens
walk through.
Opportunity knocks
answer.
A boat glides up to the dock
where you stand waiting
to take you to your dream
no explanations
no guarantees.
If you don’t go
you will wonder
and if you don’t go
what will you do
and if you don’t…go
when will you find out
just what you are made of
just what you could be
if only?
Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2012
From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine
THROWN AGAIN into the FRAZZLE MACHINE: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing
Inspiration comes from all around. It can be very insistent. I may hear some specific words line up, feel compelled to follow and see where that takes me. It feels good. Or I may see some light, shadow and pattern or colors and want to catch them in a photo.
Eric Whitacre is a composer, conductor, and charismatic speaker. He is the creator of Virtual Choir and an all around good guy. I have written many poems inspired by him and his music and the Virtual Choir experience. On his Facebook page he’s been posting photos he takes with his iPhone. Some are in color, some in black and white. On March 24th he posted a photo he took from where he was that day. This picture haunted me, insisting I write this poem. What inspires you to create?
3/24/16
Photo by Eric Whitacre
L.A., Thursday morning, in black and white
What happens before or after
we are not privy to, waves stilled
the calm water on the diagonal
the hard-packed flat sand with few lines
of footprints roughly parallel.
Scattering of clouds in motion
the sun muted and land-bound.
In the distance the Ferris wheel on a pier
precisely drawn yet in silhouette.
The solitary figure heading there or near
or going up to and returning.
The deep horizon both
inviting and ever-retreating.
An unseen witness
who catches this exact moment
between one sandy step and another
without comment except
the frame—what is in, what is out.
Is the man alone or waiting for someone
is he at the beach reflecting, making a decision
or regretting or anticipating?
What is the story this one scene
is part of, perhaps insignificant
perhaps the tragic or comic climax
the still moment before the world changes into
…before…and…after
and no going back to what was.
Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2016
Other blog posts with poems inspired by Eric Whitacre (also some photos)