journal entrys

 

 

 

Journal entry September 7th, 9am:

 

 

 

things ran together today, a progression of interrelated phenomena.

Mother's surgery went as expected. The benches in the court yard

were hot from the late summer sun. So no one sat. Only the men

walked with phones to their ears

and the women, some in skirts, rested their

shoulders against the hospital archway

some smoking their Newport's in the soft box.

One slid a black pump off as if to release some

unimaginable beast.

 

9:47am

Doctor, what could you have dug out of an 87 year old woman

that living the last 35 years as a widow hadn't already rung out?

The Raisinet's of dark chocolate has drifted into

a giant negro ball. Only the raisins are the victors here.. So sister

comes down with here book of homeopathic medicines

thick as dawn with an entire chapter devoted to

herbal remedies

St. John's Wart. Camomile. A few paragraphs devoted just

to apple cider vinegar. And while your thinking of a metaphor

for "the healing of an old lady" just remember that

the pastor from her church was there before we

arrived with two newspapers and a cherry Mountain Dew.

 

10.02am

herded in a semi circle and prayed, the pastors words drifting over my bald head

as if a lover had caught me coy and wanting; half nude and harsh. I go to sit in the hot car.

Am I going to hell? Can the pastor read minds? With the chocolate melted off,

are raisins the mesa for eternity?

 

10:15 I drive the sober mother home.

 

Reviews

[Beccy]

Your words paint the scene more deftly than the most gifted artist could ever hope to. Every little detail is pin point. The heat from the late summer sun is palpable, those men pacing with phones to their ears are amazingly brought to life, and that depiction of the woman sliding off one black pump is simply sublime.

Two newspapers and a cherry mountain dew, what medicine could hope to compete with the thoughtfulness and care behind such a gift.

Journal entries can often border on the prosaic; not so here.

Beccy.

[h d e rushin]

thank you Beccy my love....I missed you.....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i always wonder about that...is there a hell? will i end up going there---my misbelief in organnized religion...although spiritually..i do believe...maybe more in that when it comes to illnesses than in medicine...

lots of thoughts went through my head the times both my parents visited the hospital the past several years before my mom passed and my dad went to live with my sister.

what keeps them going? what expectations can be left in life...after living a life of enduring all there is.

this poem ....a ride for me.

[h d e rushin]

I don't think there's a hell my friend. Just a heaven and angels and a melodramatic God who
loves good and liquefies bad....lol. I don't know if that makes any sense........."after living a life of enduring all there is" poems and (or) the need to spell it out.....Thanks dear brother....dana