Beth Caldwell’s impact on metastatic breast cancer

http://www.fredhutch.org/en/news/center-news/2017/11/beth-caldwell-impact-metastatic-breast-cancer.html

Not a work of poetry, but poetic in it’s raw power. It also features evocative language. 

“The only thing that brings me any sense of meaning these days is to think of these fallen trees as nurse logs. Their memories, their lives, their children, their passions, their faces, their senses of humor, their wisdom, their spirits, their beautiful beautiful beautiful spirits are nurturing us, feeding us, giving us strength to go on, to demand change, to bring research to our friends, to fight against death death death so much death. Their falling leaves a hole in the forest canopy, but their souls are bringing new life to our movement and nutrients to keep us growing.

“And someday this forest will cover the world.”

As someone who lost my mother to breast-cancer far too young (pretty much the same age as Beth), this piece hits me hard. Tears, memories, so very much brought up. And, you may find it strange to share this Christmastime, but I always remember that first Christmas after my mom died. Really, though, I see this as a powerful way to honor her. 

Blessing to each of you this Christmas. Love well, love strong, love

A snow calmed Christmas morn

I’m awake early
On this dark Christmas morning
The night calmed by snow


I hope each of you has a blessed and refreshing Christmas.

A Late Autumn Walk

Walking this evening
Darkness surrounding my steps
Cool air burns my face

A Tuesday Morning Haiku

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p style=”font-family:"”>When you move too fast

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p style=”font-family:"”>The obvious, at times, missed

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p style=”font-family:"”>Which slows me down

Rain rattling the gutters 

Beautiful sound
Rain rattling gutters
The parched earth healing