Tender

Writing | Posted January 19th, 2012

Tender

(Raw Rach, March 2009)

Sternum cracking open in camel, in the wake of a good backbend (ergh, too-tender lower back) and all that anahata energy (unstruck) rushes out

just in time

because

then there is N sitting across the bar from you in someone else’s hair (eyes welling, yours) where she is staring down the barrel of the gun of the heretofore-unknown but creepingly menacing advanced ovarian cancer (there is so much suffering in the world), and the heart tends to swell and the hand instinctively reaches across the bar to clasp the one it shouldn’t clasp because of a too-tender immune system weakened by chemo (careful, so fragile), this now-delicate little bird across the great chasm (damn bar) pretending at levity, swimming in tender looks from the man at her side whose physical size belies the softness inside, betrayed by the weary eyes you’d not yet seen before that day

the haunting sorrow of knowing this is how she will die

now it is just when

no longer how

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