It’s Been My Annus Horribillis

retorts a poem written on the thirteenth day

of the penultimate day of the month:

feeling fine, feeling remarkably fine

and I’m trying for a re-birth

at what should be, probably is:

close to the end of a reasonably long life.

 

Earlier in the year an attempt was made

to insert a stent to my heart. Thinking one,

they found two, the more recent

quiet small: and dealt to it: went on

to the larger one. The patient (myself)

watched them as they worked. And

then the nurse leaves her monitor duties

and comes to my side.

 

I have little recall of her words

so soon, as they say, I was out

like a light; inserting wires had

snapped, not once but twice.

There followed an emergency retrieval.

 

Next morning the little surgeon

came to my bedside; and said

“I may never touch you again.”

And though I struggled with

that deep cobbled wound in the groin and what

is called “referred pain” in my shoulder:

(strange as that may seem.)               I’d

screamed and moaned. And later

I would think “And maybe I just

will not let you touch me again.”

But I’m determined and I’m hopeful.

I live in hope.

 

I am determined

to heal, alter diet, exercise.

I don’t regard myself as desperate;

but I’ve heard of vegan miracles.

Each day I chip away

at what I regard as my re-birth.

How far will I get! Only time will tell.

This is the pen and the thoughts

of a forever optimist.

 

It’s near the end of the year.

A new year is waiting to be born;

feeling fine; feeling remarkably fine;

metaphorically young in heart & mind,

I’m working on some re-birth.

Benita H. Kape (c) 13.11.2019

This poem is shared in dVerse  https://dversepoets.com/ Amaya hosting has requested poems on the subject of birth.

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