This week I deeply miss my mother, who died a few years ago of cancer — without her, Christmas is hollow. I’m recovering from a cold but hoping I feel well enough tomorrow to bake a batch of her cookies to share with Dad.
These are some little poems I wrote in those difficult final months, part of a typewriter haiku series I was doing at the time:
dark cells multiply
invading overtaking
out damned cancer spot
lying face to face
i hold her hand while she sleeps
mother, child reversed
impending loss looms
unfathomable chasm
numbness forestalls pain
relentless drumbeat
time marches bodies degrade
inevitable
sun low in the sky
light slipping through our fingers
every moment counts