Apt and difficult prompt
“…the ailing body points to culture, pain points to philosophy, language points to consciousness, and all point to what is still to be learned about our fragility, our mortality, and how to live a meaningful life.” Ann Jurecic, Illness as Narrative (Composition, Literacy, and Culture), p. 131
Large B-cell lymphoma with T cell-rich…
Damn, how do I slip that mouthful in.
To my life. My thought. This poem?
The tumor breached my spine, pressed
its attack onto nerves. A tactic to cut
communication channels. Painful alarum.
Yet here we arrive. The first day of Spring—
Shushan Purim. We walk in Jerusalem’s
Botanical Garden. The first chemical attack
on the tumor, the lymphoma, my body—
this day—dispensation given to fight back
against this pogrom in my very bones.
The red anemones, pink cyclamen,
something purple I cannot name,
shine with indifference to the wars
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