Carcinoma

My stilting hope. My lowlands of the mind. Heaviness of being. (Seamus Heaney) 

How does normal become.               To wake 

from shock and find that most everything 

settles into routine or some other way 

of making itself

like breathing.               Don't ask 

how it is done, I do not know. What to make 

of the dream my son told me 

yesterday. Fenced 

by his father in an orchard, he was made 

to choose between being 

a cigarette          or the sun. 

And the look on his face as he relayed the story 

was genuine, like a baby's first understanding

that there is hunger, and

it is not always or immediately answered. What 

do I say when he seems to want nothing 

but answers.                     My father 

smokes a pipe and has always preferred 

to flicker in the clasp of sunfall alone.

Author's Note

2019

Reviews

[SkinlessFrank]

The insight throughout this piece echoes the poem’s opening problem. I often wonder about how normal resumes after shock. Life continues, but without guarantees, in a darker shade from that point onward. By avoiding sentimentality, you heighten the terror of the revelation. The child is not simply afraid or confused; he has learned a structural fact about the world, a terribly sad one. And then there is the ambiguity of the father as both protector and coercive authority. I can recall this horror from childhood. The confusion of it is never resolved, even when the abuser has passed.

[Eilis]

Hi, thanks for your thoughtful comment. This poem reads so differently to me all these years later. My father was dealing with cancer when I wrote this and he chose not to tell his children for many months. I actually found out from his fourth ex-wife. Growing up with a complicated relationship with a parent but never giving up on the hope that it can be redeemed colors the world in odd ways. My father was absent but a big presence. My children’s father will be that for them as well. I wouldn’t have said that when I wrote this but life delivers hard lessons. In the aftermath you can see the things you blinded yourself to when you were unable to accept them or change them. Perhaps clarity that leads to acceptance (for ourselves) and forgiveness (for ourselves) is all we can hope for. Not sure, but I do understand what you mean by your last sentence. Always appreciate your comments.

[gram linski]

the heaviness of being as the weight of life slowly presses inch by inch, I liked how the dream part ended with thoughts of your father, pipe in hand, alone, a solitary shadow in the dimming light of day, rounds up nicely with the Heaney quote, great poem, Eilis,

[Eilis]

Thank you, Gram. My father the shadow. Perhaps may be a book of poetry in its own right some day. read moreThank you, Gram. My father the shadow. Perhaps may be a book of poetry in its own right some day.

Sometimes I will read a poem and something in it speaks out to me and begins writing another poem. That was the case with this one. Heaney’s words do always tend to speak to me in meaningful ways.

As always, I appreciate you reading and articulating your thoughts.

[gram linski]

I got a read more comment so don't know if there is more or not, sounds like a great title for a book,

[Eilis]

Not sure why that happens so much on comments to you. My original reply is below.

Thank you, Gram. My father the shadow. Perhaps may be a book of poetry in its own right some day.

Sometimes I will read a poem and something in it speaks out to me and begins writing another poem. That was the case with this one. Heaney’s words do always tend to speak to me in meaningful ways.

As always, I appreciate you reading and articulating your thoughts.

[Kay Salisu Titilola]

Not all can be reviewed as you said in this piece that they shouldn't ask you what is not meant to be known.

Powerful writing here, Eilis.

[Eilis]

Indeed. Thanks for reading, Kay.

[kentuck14]

Quite the metaphysical/philosophic piece! You have gone very deep here! Fathers and sons . . . only dreamed about my father after he died at 96. Perhaps our dreams are the working out of our relationships with others? And yes . . .do we ever stop wanting ANSWERS?! Nice work.
T

[Eilis]

I think dreams are something like that. Though, what do I know, ultimately. I suppose the only real thing I know is that I don't know anything really. Ah.

Thanks for reading my poems, Tom. Always enjoy your style of interacting with the words.

[kentuck14]

Ahh . . . maybe wisdom begins with humility! I use to be a know it all of sorts, but life, aging and reality (like gravity) takes it's measure.
T

[Eilis]

Yep, I've had my know it all stage, too, ha ha. Life will definitely throw a wrench in those kinds of notions!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

my dad used to smoke...my grandpa smoked a pipe and for christmas got me pipe tobacco...
"smoke up Johnny"
but actually since either the cigarette or the sun would both burn up...maybe understanding the choices is the important part...in life we live or die by decisions and choices we make...and what is routine...i see it...but have never lived it...always lived an "off the books" sort of life.
i relate to this poem in several ways...i see myself reflected in it.
when a poet can write from his or her own heart...and readers can find their own reflection in the work...that is golden poetry...this is that.
j.

[Eilis]

Ah, thank you Jacob. That’s a lovely comment to receive. And I love what you had to say about choices. I do think that’s a very important part of the whole thing.

I’m appreciative of your genuine engagement with the poem. Those things mean a lot. All the best.

[Penlady]

Wow! Jacob! Your comment to Eilis's poetry has provided a handclasp for all readers here! Bravo both!

[Eilis]

Yes, Jacob's comments are always insightful. Thanks for dropping by again, Penlady!

[Chris Shaw]

Intrigued by the choice your son had in his dream Eilis and your title. I guess too much of both of them can be cancerous. The choice sounds a bit like being between the devil and the deep blue sea. I can imagine the discussion taking place when he revealed the dream's contents to you and the shock of being forced to choose one of the two. My grandson often discusses his dreams with me. I think he truly believes I will be able to put meaning to them when in fact I doggie paddle in deep water. Dreams are a mystery. A complete mystery.

Chris

[Eilis]

Yes, Chris. Dreams can be quite impossible to comprehend! It’s one of those things we usually laugh at in my house, but occasionally something catches us off guard.

I said to E below that the title refers to the main theme of the poem being about my father’s cancer diagnosis and our awkward relationship. I found out secondhand he was ill and had no plans to contact me. He later did. But before that, it just so happened my son had that dream and the poem kind of wrote itself.

Thanks for reading and sharing your experiences. Raising kids (and grandkids!) is such an experience, nothing to match it.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Eilis for explaining further about the title and your thoughts when writing the poem. Be well and have a good week-end I am sorry to hear about your Father's diagnosis. .

[Eilis]

Thanks, Chris. Hope you have a great weekend as well.

[Einstein Noodle]

pignant! really moved by
"to choose between being
a cigarette or the sun. " ...among several others ... closing sounds just like me own Irish Catholic Da ;) bless his soul

[Eilis]

Many thanks, E. The fathers of days past have a lot in common methinks. Appreciate your reading.

[Einstein Noodle]

i think you right ;) i wrote a bit more but it looks as if it has simply disappeared ???? read this poem several times ... lots of good stuff in there for me :) not sure how to fit the title in though ... the poem seems too much about a young man "coming of age" .. father's fences of guidance and/or inhibition does has wisdom ... youth too many times enamored by alluring dangers of one kind or another do go astray .. many times paying a price .. a very personable, emotive parents perspective i see in this .. nice work says i!

[Eilis]

Thanks again. I really like what you see here. It’s all clear to me when you say it.

read moreThanks again. I really like what you see here. It’s all clear to me when you say it.

Regarding the title: the poem was written after I found out my father had cancer. We have had an ambiguous relationship my whole life. But, he’s still my father. I was trying to get at the feelings there and also thinking about the dynamic of parenting as an adult-child of two adults myself. Trying to unpuzzle some mysteries!

Thanks for your considered comments.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Sometimes ambivalence resides inside us and choice is not a flavour we wish to taste. But ambivalence is indeed a cancer when it prevents one from progressing with one's life. In my ambivalent world dreams are dreams are dreams, often sparked by a thought or emotion or memory but never-the-less the dream is normally simply that and there it rests. Unfortunately we can be haunted by dreams even when awake if it spills into sunlight and especially if a loved one shares their dream and fears with us. You quote Heaney as a prefix and indeed this has a Heaney-esque quality to it.

[Eilis]

Many thanks, John, for your kind words and shared wisdom. I really like what you have to say here, it’s an interesting way of looking at dreams.

I appreciate you reading and sharing your thoughts and experience.

[Mrudula Rani]

Given the choice of freedom to choose at will, we all usually steer clear of dangerous issues. But when the choice is between two prospects... intelligence dictates us to select the lesser evil, but there is no guarantee that human nature obeys wisdom of knowledge. For we are prone to temporary temptations of our circumstances.
Just about every thing man manipulated chemically has such a devastating effect on human health. Cigarettes are one of the addictive, hazardous elements on the market... what was your youngster's choice?
Your title of this poem had a very long pensive effect on me, Eilis. You have crafted an exceptionally extraordinary poem, that will ask many questions and evoke a process of exchanging knowledge. Thank you for bringing forth issue that needs much attention.

[Eilis]

He didn’t make it that far in the dream. That may be why he felt so confused by the idea. If it had played out to fruition it may have felt different to him.

Thank you so much for your kind words and wisdom shared here, Mrudula. This was not an easy poem for me to share. Your and Neville’s extraordinary comments have made it worth it, though.

Thank you very much.

[Mrudula Rani]

You bring the best out of your readers, dear Eilis. I have never seen such a wonderfully lengthy review from our Neville before. I am impressed.

[Eilis]

Neville is very generous, yes.

[Neville]

There are certain mysteries that I believe are meant to be just that.. Maybe for evermore, or at least way past my bedtime..

What is normal, ha.. How many times have we heard or used that phrase.. I suspect that normal occurs at the precise moment being judged assumes a familiar or shared value.. and that principle applies to all things… A bit like breathing, we do it but unless our attention is drawn to it for some reason we are rarely conscious of it.. The secret, isn’t really a secret though but lies with the pneumotaxic nerve centre in the pons variola of the medulla oblongata.. Impressive at parties, but not a very good chat up line, believe me, I’ve tried it…

Wow, what a dream.. what a choice to make, nay.. what a choice to have to make.. I would choose the sun. Both burn, but one far more brightly than the other and is a giver of life and comfort and.. and lots of other things besides…

I reckon your son was being encouraged to think independently and outside the box.. to be conventional maybe and proud of it in an honourable rather than conceited way, like I imagine an American Indian chief might be.. And to make choices for himself, to be independent and resourceful…

Finding oneself fenced in an orchard by someone both loved and trusted smacks of freedom but restricted movement maybe.. Almost a contradiction in terms I know, but possibly, a staged release, over time as he grows and matures… I like that thought, kind of..

Clinical perplexity is one of the most fascinating observations I have ever witnessed, that lost, confused, uncertain, anxious look of incredulity will never be forgot and you nailed it here in this rather special poem..

My father

smokes a pipe and has always preferred
to flicker in the clasp of sunfall alone

Well what a way to go eh… if those summative words were not so very important to the poem, they might seem totally incongruent, but as writ.. the are indeed beautiful.

Nothing short of a great poem and true......

N.

[Eilis]

Thank you, Neville, for the depth of this review. I am stunned by it. It’s beautiful and full of a perfect understanding. Thank you for seeing what I was trying to say and expressing it so well.

I am truly grateful to you.

[Neville]

I think that's what they call a win win...

[Eilis]

Yes, indeed. Thank you again

[Penlady]

After just ONE read, I think you are my favorite writer...I have lost so many of my family and friends to the use of tobacco..yet the memory of coming into the bathroom after my dad and smelling his tobacco smoke and his MENNEN"S after shave, remains a heart glow for me....life is so full of contradictions and decisions....you have envisioned a memory maker...whether dream or memory.....Bravo!

[Eilis]

Thanks so much, Penlady. Your comment encapsulates those mixed feelings that memory can offer. I love the connections you made here as that helps me to see something more about the poem.

I appreciate your kind words.

[Penlady]

....and I, am so glad i discovered your writing, i THANK YOU!