Tuesday, June 9, 2021

More Ramblings from my broken brain…

An image of my brain last June 2nd. It’s a big week for me. June 9th, 2020 was my first surgery in the process of debunking.

I read an article on Medium that mentioned a poetry competition for Pride month. I sent it on to Samantha, my daughter, as she writes mind-blowing poems and encouraged her to enter. Unfortunately, the challenge is past due which I should have realized but didn’t. So, I decided to try my hand at it as the topic intrigued me. I am not a poet. I am a straight, middle-aged white lady as boring as they come, but I like a challenge and thought “what the heck.” Samantha is a fascinating creature with an incredible brain. She is in a long-term relationship with a man but is on a spectrum of sexuality. I’d say she does not claim anything. She’s just her, but I’d check with her as I may be wrong (as mothers sometimes are). The competition by Vocal was to write a poem about something that makes you unique, inspired by the idea of color. Grey is the color for brain cancer and is also a literary symbol for sadness. My childhood was mostly gray. My adult life has been much more colorful, but the gray still hovers due to my cancer and other life losses. I hope you enjoy my gray poem.





Gray is my color (grey)


Gray for my first kitten who was tragically killed by a grey stone

flung by a passing mower


Gray for endless winters cold and grey

alone and lonely longing for summer


Gray for my childhood in all its grey confusion

my youthful, winsome mom doing her best


Gray for the 3 grey hairs on Grandpa Ernie’s head

his mind and heart I so deeply loved


Gray for the grey tipped pencils

required at the ubiquitous schools I did bounce


Gray for the old grey-haired Serbian man

I married too soon

Gray for the grey Oldsmobile driving fast, icy curvy roads

Superior below, not caring if I lived, taking my hands off the wheel

Gray for the frigid grey Pacific ocean waves

beckoning me achingly into its eternal embrace

Gray for the backyard grey fire-pit smoke

I relished with my true partner


Gray for the grey lost years

of mourning my living mother


Gray for the grade II (grey) brain tumor

that haunted my thirties


Gray for the grey titanium plates

that clamp my still sore skull together

Gray for the grey gadolinium

that quarterly pulses through my veins


Gray for my grey-silver flute

the craniotomy did take


Gray for the grey headstone of my mother-in-law

who should still be standing in her beloved kitchen


Gray for my mother’s long, shiny grey hair

that I now see with loving frequency

Gray for my brain that became a blank slate akin to grey slate

as I lay not knowing I was passing quickly

Gray for the gross grey-matter

that was skillfully removed last summer


Gray for the stage IV grey brain tumor

that consumes my every waking move


Gray for the cold grey concrete floor

my seized body woke to


Gray for the grey dust

that I feel I must constantly remove


Gray for the growing grey flecks

in both of our hairs


Gray for cremation, but.

 Not. Yet.

grey cashmere I wrap myself in




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