Poems, Prayers and Promises
I’m not sure if you noticed, but during the last week I’ve been writing a bit about ”spiritual” matters, i.e., asking forgiveness, faith, prayer, and healing. I wanted to be careful with these issues, as they have religious implications and people have strong opinions regarding them. (Trust me on this. The steady stream of “heal thyself” letters I receive bears this out.)
Plus, this blog is really about the subject of dying, not religion.
But it is difficult to completely separate one issue from the other. As I’ve said many times, cancer is by and large a spiritual journey. It will test everything you believe about life, love, God, prayer, meaning, and the seemingly random nature of this world. It will force you to reevaluate where you stand on the most challenging questions life throws at you.
And terminal illness? Even more so.
The word “spiritual” has a lot of baggage that comes with it. It does not necessarily mean religious, of course. And being a spiritual person is certainly not tied to one particular faith. I come from a Christian background, and my writing will inevitably touch upon that part of my life. But hopefully it will never exclude readers from other faith backgrounds, or agnostics for that matter, for if it does then I would view my writing as a failure.
Here are two poems from my book Antidotes & Home Remedies that touch upon some of the “spiritual” issues I wrote about last week and hopefully help illustrate my point. Although each springs from my religious experiences to a certain degree, the subject matter of each poem is fairly universal, something that people from all religious faiths could potentially embrace.
Beatitude
In the chemo room, the wife,
now bald, still serves her husband.
Rising from the infusion chair,
she walks dutifully to the food cart
and selects three juice varieties,
then wobbles back to present them
to her man, who’s there for “support.”
I want to say something mean.
This is my nature in such situations.
But maybe she finds servanthood
soothing, even now when she’s at risk.
Perhaps a sudden switching of roles
would swallow them whole,
would send her over the cliff.
Too much change too soon, you know.
But at a gradual pace we can
get used to anything, even death.
It’s admirable that he’s here at all.
So many are in this alone.
And although he’s just sitting there
reading the paper, providing
brief commentary as she takes
phone calls from her nervous mom
and distressed daughter,
that seems to be enough.
Blessed are the comforters,
for they will be comforted.
The Madness of Miracles
Our friend had suffered a near tragedy.
For two full weeks, her child’s life hung
in the balance while the world prayed.
Even I cried. Even I dialed up the Almighty.
What else could we do with such horrors?
When the tragedy turned in their favor,
I braced myself as explanations emerged,
how God had heard the prayers
and intervened with a miracle. Meanwhile,
I, the unhealed, sat waiting, all alone.
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Comments
I just lost a very good friend with 6 children at home. She always gave to charitable causes, even when she did not have much herself. She gave as much of herself as possible to others, inspiring them to do the same. In talking with a mutual friend, I railed, “He always takes the good ones first!” Having been less than 2 years out from losing my beloved mother-in-law (who loved everyone in her family equally, regardless of any “step” or “in-law” titles – I doubt anyone in the world had a bigger ability to love than my MIL), the loss of my friend seemed especially unfair. My husband’s young cousin (24) is losing her cancer battle. I try to always keep perspective and to have faith in “the plan,” but sometimes, no explanation would be sufficient. Jim, you remain in my prayers. Perhaps some facet of your suffering is to bring others to the point of acceptance. Your chronicling of your own struggles, tinged with humor, helps me to regain perspective. Thank you – for sharing your struggle, your pain, your humor, and your journey. It sometimes makes a few steps of mine easier…
I’ve been waiting for someone to notice that I wrote two entries in a row that were taken from John Denver songs. Oh well, I guess people have better things to do…
LOL – I honestly don’t know much John Denver. He was somewhat before my time (or while I was listening to other music genres). Were they lyrics or song titles? I’ll have to go look those up!
I got the John Denver thing, but it’s because I’m over 50. I love both poems. I try to believe there is more than one kind of healing, hoping that will make it “okay” if I don’t get cured, but knowing that it won’t. Thank you for having the courage to share your reevaluation and questioning with us.
These are two of my favorites from Antidotes & Home Remedies. Madness really speaks to me re miracles or lack thereof. I often wonder about the explanations of unanswered prayers given by the self-proclaimed devout believers…that God has a plan we don’t understand. Have they really thought that through. Also, I love the line in Beatitude about the switching of roles swallowing them whole. Continuing to grow and change, often switching roles, while in the inevitable journey towards death is a challenge for everybody whether they realize it or not. I appreciate your ability to be so perceptive in your poetry.