By Desiree LeRoy though I write about what has happened to me, it is not who i am. it is not my identity. i am learning this. it takes practice. it is not to be carved into my walnut urn. the ocean will not carry ashes of pain. no. my ashes will illuminate the waves and carry the next surfer home.

By William Laferriere I’m not suggesting one should “make a better life,” because it’s uncertain why progress is critical. By all means bear in mind the adage that “She not busy being born is busy dying.” But I am suggesting that you live life. Not just endure, not just suffer, not just pass through, but live it. Stare it down. Understand who you are, and what you are, and where you’ve come from, And better still, where you’re going. Take chances. Recognize your own body of work. Learn to enjoy it, and be proud. Express yourself, write epic poetry, paint your vision, seek destiny, sing that song of yourself, channel Dorothy, create that new narrative. Seize upon every moment, every nuance, every metamorphosis, while reconstituting. Today happens but once.

By Kate Meyer-Currey when you got with me I had no idea it could be a life-sentence you’re an armed robber holding me under false imprisonment in my own body gun to my head until I get your bally off and see if you’re just a mosquito a runner fake cancer-gangster or a real big OC man tumour ready to take me down you’ve gone OT in my left boob conch among its lumps cuckooing my cells feeding my veins like county lines waiting for reload so I’ve handed myself in to the hospital to get your mammogram mugshot and radiography recognition so you stand out in a microscope line up plus the biopsy of tissue you left at the crime scene every contact leaves a trace so either it’s a case of mistaken identity wrong boob wrong time or you’re bang at it making me play russian roulette depends if you’re just a rubber bullet or full metal jacket collateral feels the same right now either way you’re the snake that grassed me up so I’ll be wired up when they send a shank team in to get you out I hold you to account for wrecking my gaff right now you’re bailed to my home address and I’m waiting on recall to hospital while you cook up more dodgy cells to make me your cancer crack whore roll on sentence date hope you go away for good for possession with intent to supply and I get out on tag with breast care nurse probation to scare me straight got a restraining order so stay in your dead pool breach my chest wall again and it won’t be double jeopardy no you’ll be dead man walking because I’m living my Shawshank Redemption fantasy baby no word of a lie. Bang you’re dead to me.

By William Laferriere No matter the stage, or place on the continuum from the start of the lockdown we knew the pandemic to be a physiological and psychological threat to our individual health and potentially render us into that proverbial rabbit hole Many report symptoms of anxiety or depression the increase fairly telling depression everywhere on the rise so to is the scramble to find solutions that may provide relief So we ask are you lonely tonight your stars out of alignment do you realize there is someone that you can turn to who can identify with and understand what you are going through and extend a helping hand to alleviate the depths of despair and desolation And in turn perhaps you too can provide a measure of relief to someone else conceivably a less fortunate soul they need not be friend or acquaintance, or friend to a friend maybe just a stranger traveling alone through the darkness It doesn’t require an effort greater than what you think you can provide by simply extending a hand a voice a smile a meal a ride If it’s in you please consider answering the call

By William Laferriere (The ethics of a genetics tale - dedicated to Trish) An 18th century poet once upon a time aptly noted that some to misery were born he then bespoke of endless night and all that pertains. Still as we seek progress spot on germline mutation discoveries allow us to see through the eye of the truth that is to be. And navigate through the nascent struggle discerning the ethics of involvement the sharing of detail the need to know. A patient’s protections the shattering of consciousness a smattering of objectivity the toxicity of detail. Emotional recusal from the deleterious effects understandable and undeniable a blink of the eye The honor system under siege a metaphysical breakthrough of a sort heretofore unknown help indeed on the way.

By Desiree LeRoy Winter is here. They say a time for reflection. Spring is coming. But be still now a time for action soon but wait. No. Winter, spring, fall, and summer, early, mid, and late, I am not a home for wasps to nest. --- Connect with Desiree on Instagram: @somaticpoetry

By William Laferriere I could never have envisioned Something more difficult More treacherous, and yet more sublime, than Sailing Stormy Seas When persistent unseen waves Pound you and the afterdecks, Knocking the rails, as the boom vang screams Forcing you to man the helm Both hands in a locked embrace Anticipating that mysterious rogue wave a potential overboard It’s as if your life too Staggered and dependent upon Your ability to navigate the tempest and withstand the test Your intellect channels The Ancient Mariner The winds howling almost jeering And yet you navigate by compass Under a relentless blow Water swelling water everywhere True danger presents itself And yet no one aboard Thinks twice, or doubts, having faith in the vessel And then I met An entire community Biopsied and diagnosed so beautiful in their resilience Like that lost sailor Who spent her time at sea And withstood the torrential as the shore lights ultimately beckoned

By Ashley Leiss A poem for children and their families about how bad days make us better people. Your struggle is not for nothing! I want to tell you the story of how I became a new bird! Have you ever been sick lonely, or sad? That’s what happened to me and I was so mad. One ordinary day I woke up feeling strange Somehow I knew my life would never be the same. I didn’t want to see other birds, they could never understand! When you wake up one day and things go unplanned. I watched them fly by in the beautiful breeze. From tree to tree feeling so free. There I was alone in my nest A sad, heavy feeling resting on my chest And each day the other birds would try to help me Bringing me food and stories of the wonders that they’d see. As the summer turned to fall and my wings felt so weak I was so tired and scared no birds would recognize me! But one day I woke after a very long nap My friend the Sparrow stopped by and helped me change tracks. “Each day is a gift no matter how hard. When we are sick and tired it can be a struggle to see that far. I know you look different and feel different too, and you’re trying each day to feel like the old you. But don’t look behind or too far ahead, just look up and trust God instead.” I hugged the Sparrow so tight with all of my might and I looked at the moon so differently that night. You see, I became a new bird, His love set me free I began feeling stronger from inside my tree. I tell you this story if you’re becoming a new bird too. Or if someone you know seems a little bit different to you. The next day I flew high out of my nest And saw all my friends and laughed hard deep in my chest. On my way home I saw a sad bird who needed my care. He needed some hope that was now mine to share. I told them the story of how much I’ve changed. And that how without hard days, they’d just all be the same.

By William Laferriere A recent proclamation from The US Surgeon General Provides a warning… Fair enough He describes the rise of Feelings of loneliness, of fatigue and diminishing self worth… And of course the associated rise of despair That insidious feeling of no longer Having any hope Can be quite debilitating… Is there a lifeline to be thrown? Successful mitigation of that threat Requires outreach, community and effort For alone we see difficulties… With others a vision of hope For a Mental Health Crisis To be narrowly averted Seek a positive consciousness… And drive a notable fundamental shift So let’s collectively meet the moment And brush transitory politics aside For Navigation requires an all encompassing effort… Regardless of vessel It’s based in caring A discernment of courage A removal of stigma… Progressing towards the cure Seek help it’s out there.

By Brookshire McDonald The ear doctor doesn’t treat toes; nor does the toe doctor Treat ears. This is true for you And also your peers. On top of this You need to be aware Of which ologist to seek To receive the proper care. There’s gastro for stomach And a surrounding part. This is helpful to learn Just for a start. Then cardio if it’s your heart That’s bothering you. Optho for eyes, ortho for bones, dermo for skin- Just to name a few. You need a clue to be aware of your Dr. visit, so you won’t think you’re Seeing the OB-GYN and when you arrive there It’s evident it’s the Protologist Who’s providing your care!

By Sara Kandler I shift the leather rolling bag to my other arm before hoisting it up the stairs to the teacher’s room My fifty-something colleague passes lowers her chin while raising her darkened eyebrows above her glasses serious green eyes knowing Somehow they all know why I missed last week And some know why I’m back so soon To never miss a beat and not submit to doom the self-blame the shame the I knew I shouldn’t have been so stressed or the now I’m becoming so insane To say I beat it with a smile and a goody bag of rouge sticks feels like a giant hokey pink thumbs up No — my wing is clipped and I’m not singing The whirring wheels of my rolling bag announce my arrival and I roll with the punches down every hallway Wishing for my very own punching bag Not recognizing myself Who used to feel like one of the kids Now seeing me in their eyes Another fifty-something Shifting the weight to her stronger side And taking a breath Before taking the stairs. Good to see you, she says. Thanks. It’s good to be back.

By Brookshire McDonald From the CO-VID we want To stay away. So we’ll schedule a tele-visit When you call today. Listen carefully as our menu Is not the same. You may wait until the end To leave birthdate and name. Press “1” if pregnant You might be. Hit “2” if it’s a rash You do see. “3” is or an itch That bothers you. Punch “4” if—— Well you don’t have a clue. The next visit we have Is three months from now; So we hope you’ll feel better Somehow! You’ll go to a place Where you can spread out. Isn’t this what the visit Is all about? The dining room table Is a great place. You can lie there And not even show your face! We’ll take a quick peak As we glance “down there”; And as directed by HIPPA We will not share. A call will be made To the pharmacy you pick, And we hope the medicine Makes you no longer sick. If your insurance has changed Inform us when you call. Charges for in-person and tele-visit Are no different at all. We appreciate your responding to the survey Coming up next- Then sending our number to all your friends By text!

By Sara Kandler I take to you like a fish to water injured and humbled shudder sink hit rock bottom I summon strength from within begin to wriggle through jagged grooves an algae brine infuses my parched gills you sea me sustain me I can breathe Now I rise heading windward ride your heaving tides perched high above deep sea canyons sunlight glinting off my bare back Your alcoves slowly recede into delicate pools far afield a fable, an elixir, a shield

By William Laferriere Dedicated to David and all the wonderful folks at Harmony and Healing In the existence of all is found a rhythm and a pattern. Thus we consciously find ourselves deeply embedded within a cosmic, rhythmic universe. Everywhere we look viable rhythms discern. They’re found in all the patterns moving through the associated dimensions of time and space. It is there as the seasons cycle, in the migration of birds, the oceans’ tides, and waves, the rivers’ rolling to the sea, the waxing and waning of the moon, the fruiting, harvesting and dying of plants, the birth, development, and death of all sentient beings. Musical rhythm, in its myriad manifestations, has served us well throughout time. It is believed to have originated during the middle Paleolithic Period, dating back some 50,000 years. It’s evidence depicted by the dancers of ancient cave sketches and unearthed primordial instruments. This rhythm has long been recognized as such a powerful tool, known for uplifting one’s spirit, for evoking a multitude of emotional responses. It may relax or stimulate. Or lend itself to heal. Today rhythm is credited with improving medical outcomes and life quality, in multitudinous ways. Listening to music can reduce the anxiety associated with chemotherapy and radiotherapy. it can quell nausea and limit vomiting for those on the receiving end. Overall, music therapy may decrease pain recognition, thereby reducing the amount of required meds. It can relieve depression, and give one a sense of control.

By Sara Kandler a jog through amber scented woods brings me back home to circle the driveway arms angled like bony angel wings I relish this stroll the breath the slow shoulder roll but today my sore chest caves in a rush of salt tears it’s been so many years since I witnessed my mom’s elegant form so deftly pared a ribbed Rodin figurine I was only 13 scared my own body just awakening legs extending toward unknown pathways now her eyes follow me while I run for miles tell me to smile as I wince sing as I rinse my face or the dishes and write poems til 2 like Judy did her arms glazed in sea green and cobalt blue colors running together to create something new we share this, too Related Poems You Will Love I Bloom With Grace , by S helley Caruso I Saw Love , by J une Chapko After Cancer Me , by M eagan Miraldi Run , by Sara Kandler Cloudy , by Heather Lockerman I'm Still Me , by Julie Gaughan Spink Truth at the time of a breast cancer Dx by William Laferriere

By Brookshire McDonald With winter and Co-Vid All creeping behind, We’re emerging daily With Spring in mind. The calendar reveals April is before us now. It’s “Write a poem month,” So I’ll begin somehow. It’s such an awakening After all the blight To hear the birds singing And to feel the sunlight. I know some gave up resolutions They did make; But there are plenty of hours For some to retake. It’s time to be kind to yourself And to others, too. Spring can be a wonderful Outlet for you. Look around each day As the moments go on Miracles you’ll see If you get off your phone. Take time to say A kind word or two. Lend a hand To more than a few. If nothing works, a smile shared Will make someone’s day Even if not a word You do say. So get busy; go ahead; The limit is the skies You’ll see miracles come Right before your eyes!

By William Laferriere A sacred space Archeologists discovered that resident on the proscenium arch found above ancient Greek altars is detailed a brilliant free-floating eye one that looks out to the congregation as it looks back at the inner sanctum And what of that sanctum is sacred and what of it is profane Its but a private place a secret space to which few others are admitted Have you found that space Is it non ordinary in the way Of time and space Does it allow for transformational experience Does it provide relief, release, respect, regeneration Can you tune into your breath And focus simply on just that And cultivate mindfulness.

By Brookshire McDonald My mother always said A sister for me would never be. I didn’t know at the time My dad had had a vasectomy. Fast forward To a two time diagnosis of breast cancer Followed by a support group Which held the answer. I gained a large group of sisters The very first day; And I love each of you In a very special way. My mom has died And can look down to see she was wrong While counting all the sisters To whom I belong. I feel looking down She’s happy as can be, As I attained What she couldn’t provide for me. Pardon my adding a gaining sisters Anniversary To this event Though no formal invitations Really ever got sent. The honorees are present Among us tonight As I celebrate gaining sisters With much delight. Happy Anniversary And Happy Soirée, too To each of you Who made my dream come true!

By Sara Kandler Powder pink ribbons clipped to my daughter’s hair? No, a pale loop would be lost among her free-flung chocolate curls her spirit that of brazen girls announcing themselves in loud colors and sassy words I dressed her in stretchy pants that ripped when roughed along the rocks or tore when tugged into splits on smooth wood floors she was free to explore And she was tough fell asleep one night sitting upright in our bed arrow-straight like a Degas dancer bronze head tilted in defiance of the nonsensical concept of bedtime Ok, I’ll admit she did have a pink phase at about age two rejecting her older brother’s hand-me-downs had me running to the thrift shop so she could twirl in a rose tutu and bubble gum turtleneck her own sensory jubilee Nowadays we walk together stand tall yell out our call about time for a cure not in cotton candy pink but orange and purple swirl We march for Courage her coppery arms beseeching the sun as she balances on tip-toe atop an Algarve ledge a scalpel’s edge high above crashing waves And yanks off the pink rubber bracelet like the hindering hospital ID band that was clipped to her wrist just days before casting it far far as she can past the menacing rocks out to the open sea.

By Dawn Oswald Scans Why do we get them? Is it to help stay alive? Scans do not lie Scans are important Don't delay today It might take all day, but you're worth it and so I'm I Order that scan Skip 1, skip 2 No, skip none Scans Do not fear Don't get scan anxiety The Scans can be good or bad Whatever they are you deal with it then Don't worry about the scan results Let your doctor tell you Scan today Scan tomorrow Scan 1 Scan 2 Get that scan Don't let scan anxiety get you

By William Laferriere Soren Kierkegaard once posited “There are two ways to be fooled, One is to believe what isn’t true, The other is to refuse to believe what is true.” The truth can be a glorious, fulfilling, and beautiful thing. It can also be inglorious, scary, and ugly. So when do you want to know? When should you be told? How should the truth be explained? And who should explain it? Who to believe? Words have meaning, words have consequences. “You have breast cancer,” Are words that hit hard. A verbal blow to the psyche. Obnoxious, disgusting, frightful, and Forever life changing. The result is a lifelong battle. One that requires you to arm yourself With knowledge and community. Know what to ask. Know who to ask. Know how to ask. Know when to ask.

By Dawn Oswald Love Yes, Please Love in the morning Love in the afternoon Love in the evening I will take love all day Love for me Love for you Who doesn’t want a little love? More love, please Love is great Love is special Love is what we all need Love is in the air Love is all around us Show someone love today Don’t push it off till tomorrow Love more, not less Love a friend A family member It doesn’t matter if they are pink, white, black, or brown Make that love connection Love is not perfect Love is sweet Love can be sour But most of all love is you, you are special Love more please Love me for I love you

By Sana-Shine I sit here alone, In the ebony of night, With the glow of the silvery pearl, My only source of light. The silvery ribbons of moonlight, Weaved into my hair. The soft dews of the glow, Penetrating into my flesh. All alone I sit, With no way to cope, My mind ponders, To the things done long ago. People I had called friends, People I had treasured deep in my heart As their faces appear, I feel the knife stab into my soul. The tears sting my flesh, They burn through my skin. All this time I had thought that, They were really worth it. In the glow of the silvery pearl A place in time I see. Time may pass on, But memories they linger on forever, And the heart never forgets, The pain it had felt. Perhaps to some I am but a mystical dreamer Lost in the world. Alone am I? Out in this silvery moonlight, Trying to survive in everyday life.

By Heather Lockerman clouds float in our minds, softly and slowly drifting around until they mix and blend, becoming one Connect with Heather on Instagram: @sunshinehopeheart

By Sara Kandler For the children and teachers slain in Uvalde, Texas, and their heartbroken families. I’m working on goodbye its incarnations and stages how at first I do not cry but feel release even smile inside welcoming the stillness the end and the beginning Now it’s the unraveling thumbnails digging beneath a thick orange peel spiraling toward infinity suddenly a skid skin tears time’s up the calm sectioning then rinsing of my sticky fingers because that’s what one does complete the task at hand stay the course make the calls line up the belongings pass through doorways barely noticing the arc of the sun the dimming sky and the deepening heartache of a brand new strain of loneliness