Glory

/

Afraid 

to shine 

to be

Sometimes 

it doesn’t 

matter 

The direction

of the path 

the effort

or 

the steps 

the labor 

the presence 

it’s all 

Chaos  

Because suffering 

has no 

order 

or truth 

Life tells us 

success is 

a life without

pain

A pretty 

gratifying 

life, that is 

yours 

But I’ve 

always lived 

under the veil 

In the void 

with 

sanctified artifacts 

 

of

my remains 

I came back

less 

formed 

more rubble

A dissipation

of flesh

and

bone

Tethered 

in threads 

sewn in 

Prayer

 By 

the Holy Spirit 

 Amen.

STILL...

/

Yes, I answer, yes…. I am still on chemo. This is not a poem, not -

a poem, but a conversation. I will have chemo until the day I die, and I understand now, how it’s all been in preparation, for this moment -

though I first encountered chemo at age nine…

and I always thought the miracle meant my healing, yet it seems more so that it is my being, or rather non-being, and His being that is my calling…

and, it never made sense to me, how is it a miracle if I am not healed, yet the miracle is in the suffering, in the faith, in my ever-present joy in Him. And if I had more means, it would be my ever-present purpose, nothing else but, this….

so many times, in the presence of His saints not knowing why I was able to touch Saint John Paul II, hold a rosary prayed with by Saint Mother Teresa, or chosen to spend a week with Fr. Groshel who I have no doubt is on this path himself.

I usually don’t know how to exist in this world - fail miserably in my human skills, but yet, have a vast experience, of all that is not of this world, which will make sense at some point. Till then, I just keep failing, because I don’t know this world like I know the other, it is not in my bones or my soul, so I just try, and I fail, but I keep going because I want to understand.

I consume my bottles of anti-nausea, receive all my chemo, face my wall of fatigue, scrape for every cognitive thought, sleep without blankets to not disturb the neuropathy, and leave myself bare in the unknown.

Yet it is nothing, And I think of St. Paul, who was entrusted with suffering, trusted, and I know that I will embark on the Camino de Santiago myself one day. I don’t know how. I just know.

Why this blog, why my life - I couldn’t say…

Stella studied the sacraments this year. When she got to the Anointing of the Sick, she told me that was only for the elderly. She doesn’t know much about my past, but I told her I was 11 when I first received it…

She seemed, dare I say, impressed.

An apprentice for at least 24 years, I know my flesh is not my own, my breath is borrowed, it is all a blessing and mostly, I fail, except that I keep going, and for that reason, I see a part of my journey like that of St. Paul…

I will never be well, but that was never the point, I know that now, but I am okay…

I feel the wire mesh of the ribs that replace my own, and the soreness reminds me that I come from Him. The nerves in my chest never stop trying to fire, to mend the loss of the tissue that once existed. It burns 24/7 and it reminds me that I am not only flesh. My mind barely holds any thought and it reminds me that I don’t need to hold on to any line of thinking -

I have aneurysms that could rupture in my neck at any moment, a brain tumor that is benign but doesn’t belong, cysts in every organ, and pain everywhere…

It’s just that I learned so long ago… God doesn’t need me whole, He is whole, and I am a thread and…

I hope

… more than anything else in my life….

to be a strand that means something for His purpose… because that makes it all worth it, makes me worth the miracle of His presence.

Amen.

Space Aligned

/

And just as my eyelids flutter shut, He calls me to rejoin this story, this story, for which I left that I may listen - for an indefinite amount of time, as my call is to this obedience, for which I have not answers, but faith, and voice.

Where was I.. my invisibility unnoticed, perhaps, yet I am here, waiting for this moment…preparing in such silence for my next moment of being.

And what I share, is simple. And quiet. For in this time of survival, I did not use my energy to survive, rather, remain present, through it all.

And so pain, felt rather like a texture than an ailment. Of course not all textures are pleasant, yet texture can be layered, such that I changed my relationship to it, and felt His transformation

…and I choose

to hear His voice

above my own

and wail, yet

felt the nuance

in my

tremored prayer…

since

His love

already is

and already am -

I only need

this moment -

and the next

to continue

my journey…

Therefore, faith

lights my walk

and I listen

with each breath…

And speaking of a journey, I so desire to walk the Camino one day. Maybe one day I will, if I find the way. Till then, I realize, perhaps I am already on the path as my pilgrimage is chemo at three-week intervals. And I have this beautiful space to reflect, to heal and to be with God. The grace of acceptance means that I can release my suffering, untuck my soul from its depth, and pray for the courage to shine.

AMEN.

Morning Thoughts...

/

I am a little exhausted as I sit here at 5 am this morning. God hasn't given me a break over the past five years... Don't get me wrong; I've had plenty of blessings, just not much of a break.

In the past five years, I've struggled with cancer and unemployment back-to-back - sometimes overlapping, sometimes simultaneously. Here I am once more.

Fortunately, this time it's unemployment. Better than cancer, but still, at Christmas time, one hardly feels good being laid off.

Sometimes people ask me what it's like to have stage four cancer, or rather they don't ask me, but they'll ask a question or two. Honestly, I didn't understand stage four cancer much at all before I had it.

I thought it was kind of this anomaly of people being near death yet living quite normally, so it seemed.

Well, of course, there is no typical stage four experience. I only know mine. I know that treatment every three weeks can be exhausting, though I couldn't be more grateful that such a treatment exists to keep me alive.

Sometimes I feel like I'm living so normally that the treatment just gets in the way. Other times I wonder how debilitating this treatment is and if I'll ever feel normal again.

Mostly, I feel like I get to be on this pilgrimage with God, and I have these amazing spiritual conversations daily. I am blessed to have this relationship as my daily sacred experience.

But then, sometimes real life creeps in, like being laid off and wondering how to support yourself financially when you're a sole provider and your child depends on you.

I don't know God. I don't know, but I'm listening.

I Know You

/

and I have

called you by Name

sometimes…

its difficult

to be still

to slow down

to

pause…

Yet…

I listen -

not always

knowing

who is speaking

but, yes

Divinely inspired

like a pep rally

for the soul

a quest for

sacred space

on a path

I’ve never walked -

still…

I’m lit

within the fire

I

live, fight, and pray

… never giving up

take any piece of me…

We are in the quiet

it’s here

and I am calling it out

A call for prayers

… a calling

the work is here

AMEN

The Lost Poem

/

All the little treasures

collected in my prayers

the messages, signs…

connections, and answers -

what if I just leap

not a leap of faith

but a leap of (know)

I’ve lingered in faith…

I am a guest in the spiritual world,

but if ever

understood

in this little self of mine

something was revealed to me

in all those years ago

at nine—

when I knew nothing

but understood everything

given a gift

but I buried it

hoping it wouldn’t go away

until I understood it

because understand, I did not

…not.

but I do KNOW

prayer as an experience

I know the glimpse

of the other side -

in a short visit

so it is time to stop

practicing doubt

time to

leap into

the divine masterpiece

of life-

understood as mysterious

by design

perhaps there is something

I am to teach or share

In God’s timing -

till then we meet in this

soliloquy of

poetic prose

drawing us near

to its

destination

AMEN

Story of My Life

/

353 days

to write the story that

took 11,322.52 days to live

to grow into

to drown

and wake again…

this miracle

this bath

this

life

that

I am living

through choice

and passion

to start

once more

again and

to keep

breathing

its more

than documentation

its my life

its me

its the

voice

that is

always

its here

time to

write

this book

presence

in the

wallpaper

of this

history

that I’ve

lived

sacrificed

bled

buried

and held

near to this

departure

AMEN

Starving for Life

/

Writing is always

for after I accomplish my tasks…

meaning

my writing time is sacred

and

tonight I have a million things to do.

like take pictures

of homework

for virtual school

laundry

dishes

lunches

medicine

teeth

floors …

well

it is so lifeles

painfully exhausting

I am not the only one

with this schedule

and today

I remembered

feeding my daughter -

food I made from scratch…

before work stole

all the hours

And

I have to say

that I find

the beginning of 2022

absolutely

devastating.

Nothing

magically changed at midnight

but

I am tired of starving,

unwilling to

fade

and so

its time to figure out

how

to come alive

once more

yes.

AMEN.