Friends, you have to read this love poem. It blew me away when it showed up as the poem of the day from Poets.org one Wednesday in January. It's called "Foley Catheter," and it's by Kimberly Johnson. I don't know how to excerpt it because it all goes together. Johnson said in a note that it's about caring for her husband when he had cancer.
As I was writing this post, I got a text from a dear friend who moved away. She wrote that she misses me. Then she texted again that she misses my living room. She said she might just show up (she probably won't, because she lives in another country now - but stranger things have happened). I told her to come, and I'll put the kettle on.
As I read my friend's texts, I thought, There are so many kinds of love. And I'm blessed to have so much love in my life. Johnson's poem refers to the "for worse" that she's living, and when friends move away, that stinks (though obviously less than cancer!), but even when love hurts, it's a gift. A gift worthy of poems, even if they are sometimes sad ones.
Laura has today's roundup.
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16 comments:
I remember the first time I realized "duty" is a form of love... like Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays"... something about those small (unromantic) acts that really show the sturdiness of love. Thank you, Ruth. xo
Wonderful poem. Beautiful and so true. My brother passed away last year and his wife was immersed in his care for month till the end. I was so grateful for her care of him. If you love someone, you do what needs to be done and cherish the time left.
Ruth, this poem destroyed me. Last month, as my husband was going through medical stuff, and I watched nurses care for him and I did what I could, and then at home, I had my minor nursing duties...I was in awe of the people who deal with this long-term (my husband is fine now) and in very deep levels. My dad cared for my mom like this. Mercy. It's all there. "Another intimacy
Opens—ruthless and indecent, consuming
All our hiddenmosts. "
What a gift of a poem. Thank you.
Love means so many things in our lives. I've seen friends & family care when they showed me that we "do what we need to do", & it gave me the strength in my own life, Ruth. Thank you for sharing.
This is such a powerful poem. Thank you for sharing it. Love is a gift even when it doesn't show up as expected and is much harder than we ever dreamed.
Yes, so many different kinds of love, but a caretaker's love somehow seems more "real." I wonder if that's because of the level of sacrifice that's required or because of the extreme vulnerability and trust that must be present. Probably both.
My older daughter is chronically ill and has "met" through the Internet many other young people who are very ill. The relationships these young people are in (some are engaged, or married, or like my daughter, living with a significant other) are impressive. Most young people can't imagine what "for better or for worse" means, but these folks can.
The layers of the word "intimacy" in this poem hit me in the chest. Thank you for sharing it.
Oh, what a poem. It's filled with such real, gritty tested-and-true love--and with loss. Triumph and tragedy. That's how it feels to me anyway.
When you care deeply about someone, all you can poor out in situations like this often is love–thanks for sharing this poem Ruth.
That is such a powerful poem. Intimacy and cherish were the two words that really spoke to me. Thank you for sharing it, I have passed it along to someone who really needs it.
And thank you for the YouTube link to the Langston Hughes poem I shared this week. I may have to add it to my post for other to enjoy.
Oh, Ruth, that poem took my breath away. Yes. Thank you.
"Something-other-than-a-husband, jumble
Of exposed plumbing
And euphemism. Fumble
I through my nurse’s functions, upended
From the spare bed
By his every midnight sound."
Upended, unending fumble of functioning love. Put the kettle on and wait as long as it takes.
Thanks, Ruth.
Gorgeous poem. It brought me back to helping care for my mom in her final months. Yep, love can take many forms, and while exhausting, caregiving can be a powerful form of love for both parties.
Powerful, wonderful, awful poem. I cringed. Love is like that, I think. It asks everything.
What a positive post that makes me think deeply. My friends moved to Florida and now the husband is facing cancer. They are coming back to NYC for an appointment at Sloan. We are troubled but the love is strong so we will be supportive along with other friends.
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