Every day I try to invent myself
In colour and mood, in the tone of my voice.
Blending with the walls that is our home,
Resonating with your life (which was easy
When we were the same person, or almost)
And now I feel I don’t fit here anymore
Where all is darkened, and a blanket of silenced voices
Is covering life, and my careless chatter
My red hair an insult, my being – a mockery to yours.
I am this way though.
I can change but not into a Goddess,
Not as to your image,
I can only try inventing myself
Into someone new.
Every day I try to invent myself
It is a rather unsettling time at the moment, for both my husband and me. Maybe that is the reason I am so glad and grateful there is something to look forward to in the next year, which is the release of Roads, book 1 and book 2.
Today the cover reveal took place. The cover is a painting done by my dear friend David Agnew from Leeds, and it is one of my favorites of his work.
The first volume of the 2 poetry books is about the Road to the Other, and the Road to Ourself.
Roads carry promise within their meaning. They are all about choice, persistence, and uncertainty. They are about life. While roads can be slippery, steep, narrow, and dark, they always hold the possibility of leading us not only towards experiencing others, but to an understanding of ourselves, as well.
About here we stood, I agree with the storm,
Here, on a day when nothing
Of the tormentations had happened yet,
No clue was given to the train our lives would be,
Driven by the madman, racing past stations,
Ignoring signs and speeding.
Yes here it was. You and me, before we
Started life together. Young and almost flying.
The place is now owned by some hostile birds.
I stand here in the worst of weather
Trying to see meaning reading our letters,
The omen, the reasons in your words. And crying.
The branches – heavy under cobalt sky -
Have carried ravens in the misty morn
But now the snow has chased them off. Forlorn
I stand where I have never seen them fly.
The ravens won’t be back till it is light,
They’ll haunt me in my sleep, in dreams they tear
My hopes up, every bird another fear,
Their feathers sizzling in my room all night.
There is a point where time began to be,
And under these old trees I understand
That all we know will fade away and end:
The tree, the ravens, cobalt skies and we.
A firm, fast raising of the sea, the beach
Now changing, heavy waves come rolling by,
Above it black and torment in the sky:
I’m scared, as nothing looks the same to me.
A greater power comes to mingle with my life,
A whirling dance of yellow-orange leaves
Invites me to go far from my believes.
From now on there shall be no gravity.
A grain of sand contains all of the world
And billions of them wash away unseen.
I’m lifted going where I’ve never been,
In noise and turmoil all is lost on Earth.
We are at ease for just so many days.
Reality is catching up once more,
Revealing life won’t be so like before
When beaches waited for our children’s birth.
The friendly surgeon was frank, I am no surgery material, the latest laparoscopy confirmed what previous examinations in Leeuwarden already had pointed at. There are too many cancer cells spreading to have a succesful surgery.
I shall go for chemotherapy, which can be done in Leeuwarden, in close connection with the Antoni van Leeuwenhoek hospital. Considering my general condition and the condition of my other organs, this could yield good results.
The diagnosing period is closed now. What follows, is called the “palliative treatment path”. I shall now have to find a balance between resting and improving my shape, between accepting and hope. To put it briefly: continuing life, in spite of the fact that there is less later than before.
Now this applies to everyone above a certain age, but not everyone is told as explicitly and crystal clearly as the one diagnosed with this form of cancer. For now, life still seems more than worthy of living. So we shall just do that.
I hope and expect I shall function on my present health level for a considerable time. With chemo and specific approach of my overall shape, there might even be an improvement.
Dear blog visitors, more people than I expected are visiting here. I appreciate that. It is possible to leave a comment, but not necessary.
There have been wonder years,
Lonely nights of hope,
There was a hint of paradise
Also a little hell to cope,
Dreams that stuck to life
And wishing wells to find,
Rainy days to leave behind and faces
That I can’t forget,
The losing and the luck
And all the things you did,
The roller coaster weeks
Of fears and little faith
And in the end maybe some false relief,
And so much grief
And the hardest bit
Will be waking up