I put my courage in a jar
greased with mindfulness
sealed with positive thoughts
and placed in a meditative golden egg
to protect it
one innocent comment broke
the brittle enchantments
my courage slipped out and stained the floor
it died drying
without thinking
to collect and compose
I stuffed hankies into my mouth
silencing the noise of cowardice
there was no fortitude in those leaking tears
the needle sucked out spunk and spirit
to squirt into a vial labelled “inadequate”
I wrote this poem after my 12th bone marrow biopsy. The procedure is described as “uncomfortable” which is accurate if it goes without a hitch. Unfortunately, this is not always the situation. Everything unravelled when the nurse accompanying me to the treatment room asked if I’d had one before. When I nodded, she said “Oh then you’ll be okay. You know what’s coming….”
September 2023 is Blood Cancer Awareness Month. It is also Child Cancer Awareness Month. Every day 10 children in the UK are diagnosed with cancer. Of those lucky enough to survive, many will have long-term side-effects that may significantly impact their lives forever.
I am posting one poem per day to recognise this and raise money for the Ellen MacArthur Cancer Trust. This charity provides sailing and other outdoor adventures for children and young people aged 8-24 who have been treated for cancer. But it’s more than that. There’s a package of support around this including siblings, return trips, volunteering opportunities and so on. The Trust also works hard to ensure their work is environmentally sustainable. You can make a donation HERE!
That response is interesting and not surprising when you think about it.
I wonder if staff offering counselling have any idea of the possibility of patients’ possible response of feeling inadequate? (rather than grateful for instance...) How would research into alterations or modifications of how the procedure is done, be encouraged? Ditto, how can patient groups and others encourage actual changes? I will ask Rob for his input into these questions !
I hope this poem felt cathartic to write. I have a feeling you have written other poems about welcoming vulnerability, as well as welcoming courage - they are both authentic emotions to embrace.
The alliteration of “it died, drying“ is effective, a powerful image of courage waning, with the resonances of ‘trying’ and ‘crying’. I love the image of the golden egg, reminding me of the Phoenix reborn in the flames of a fire.
It feels as if you are rather hard on yourself at the end of this poem. Spunk and spirit need to be nurtured back to life after being extracted from us by life’s challenges!