The maples at last
open their slick red shells,
their brilliant fists of flowers.
All winter I have been sick
and much mail has come.
Your Easter postcard: Legend of the Dogwood,
that broken-hearted cross-tree,
and God saying never fear
yourself. I shall make you
delicate. I prop it
beside the anti-nauseants
and prayer cards — the heart
with swords, the heart
on fire.
___________
In honour of the season, I dragged out this thing to do a bit of work on it. It's from Bridge of Birds, my love-and-brain-tumours chapbook. This poem is somewhere close to the intersection of the two threads -- the love and the illness.
It's not a great poem, but I do feel I should keep working to write about how illness effects spirituality, effects love. I've read a lot of ancedotes -- most of them smarmy. That irritates me. A major illness is mostly a major pain in the arse, sorta like living in a cold climate. Think of it like shoveling snow or chipping the ice off the door so you can get out of the house. It's not heroic. It's not romantic. It doesn't necessarily bring you closer to God, your loved ones, or your authentic self.
And yet, the possibility that the things can be lost makes them more loved. The Resurrection moves through the world.
Oh, bother, this poem doesn't do half of what I want. But here it is, anyway.
Some references: The heart with swords is the heart of Mary, the heart on fire is the heart of Jesus -- both traditional Catholic iconography. The legend of the dogwood can be found here. (It was hard work to find a page with this legend that did not also contain Stupid Java Tricks, like music. It's that kind of legend.)
Erin,
Yes! Though the task seems daunting the cause is definitely worthwhile. We certainly can make use of resurection during life. Serious illness seen as forcing the desire for it (Jesus conveniently also being the emblem of love). I personally hope not to have to wait 'till I die to experience it. Your poem comes very close. All the necessary images are present and carry significant known weights. It just needs a small nudge to convey the fullness of your intended meaning.
The impetus coming first from the illness within, I began to think the answer may be in following the natural emotional progression, it may increase involvement and add a mystical magical(resurrection) experience to be carried through the maples.
I hope this helps even if it doesn't do enough for you.
Easter Monday
All winter I have been sick
and much mail has come.
Your Easter postcard: Legend of the Dogwood,
that broken-hearted cross-tree,
and God saying never fear
yourself. I shall make you
delicate. I prop it
beside the anti-nauseants
and prayer cards � the heart
with swords, the heart
on fire.The maples at last
open their slick red shells,
their brilliant fists of flowers.
I think illness can pull you closer to God in some ways, while driving you away in others. At least, that's my experience. It certainly makes you think of spirituality in a different way than otherwise. I think your poems that deal with this have greater meaning to me than any of your others, because I've been there, too.