Beautiful

Beautiful
My once dainty hands became ugly.
Blisters from handling hell hot saute pans,
Cuts from too swift knife work,
My little finger permanently out of joint,
Mishapen, arthritic and painful on cold days.
Ugly brown scars from blisters burst
And reformed,
A long scar from a knife…
All the ugliness from a career of cooking.
When we married my husband slid the ring
Over the stump of my ring finger
and tenderly kissed it.
Years later he kissed the scar
On my stomach –
The scar where the laser knife slit me from navel to pubis,
The doctor removing from me
the organs and lymph nodes
Holding the cancer in his hands
and discarding as meducal waste.
My husband said:
Wear the two piece bathing suit at the beach – show the world you are a survivor,
So i did.
Because I am.
I showed off my scar proudly
And held my face up to the sun
And laughed.

After

For Marian’s challenge at Real Toads. We are to write a tetractys poem – 1-2-3-4-10 Syllable count per line.  I am deeply saddened by the suicide of Anthony Bourdain.

“As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.” Anthony Bourdain

After
I.
An
empty
place setting
at the table.
Pour the wine. Free spirit drinks with a smile.

II.
Knives
are still.
Dust settles.
Pans are empty.
The kitchen is silent and still, waiting

Suicide happens when a person’s emotional pain exceeds their ability to cope with that pain. But there is help. If you are in trouble, pick up that ten ton phone–tomorrow can be better, even if you don’t believe it right now. National Suicide Prevention Help Line: 1-800-273-TALK.

 

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