No kneeling after knee replacement,
But can still sit and bow my head–
So not yet
Prayers unanswered for another:
Disease, decline, and death–
But not yet
Aged, depressed, diminished,
But want to see tomorrow’s sunrise–
Still not yet
But when cancer has taken body and mind,
Life is lifeless, no pleasures are left:
Please pray for my peace, not my life.
“Go to sleep!” you insist,
But I can’t resist
Thinking of another word.
I know it’s absurd,
But my mind has just heard
A new verse aloud in my head.
So I grab for my phone
And since I’m not alone,
Turn, so light’s not in your eyes.
When it’s day, a surprise!
A new verse you will read!
“Oh great,” you say, “Just what I need…”
The best kind of hug you can find,
Is not from the front, but behind.
Your hands can just squeeze
Whatever they please,
That is if your friend doesn’t mind!
-Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, March 28, 2016
If all our time is present time to God,
our moans and screams of rage are heard not in
the quiet of primordial time, but heard
right now–just as we feel the blaze of pain
ourselves. So in cacophony of grunts,
of cries and whispers, gasps, expiring sighs,
our tiniest mew cuts through and joins the dance
of horror in the mind of God. The days
we suffer isolated from the world…
the hours of rejection, perfidy,
and lies… the minutes, seconds, that we bleed
from the real steel of surgeon, soldier…are shared.
We cry we are forsaken–our cry is heard;
Our tears run rivers down the face of God.
Steven Shoemaker, Urbana, Illinois
[Previously published in Lutheran, Presbyterian, Catholic, & ecumenical publications.]
If I were still healthy and lived in North Carolina, I swear as a 6′ 8″ male, I would put on a dress and high heels and on Easter Sunday go to the biggest Baptist Church in Raleigh and wobble down the center aisle asking for the Ladies’ Room…
If Steve were still healthy and we both lived in North Carolina, I swear as a 5’8″ male, I’d put on a dress and high heels and on Easter Sunday to the biggest Baptist Church in Raleigh to hold Steve’s hand wobbling together down the center aisle asking for the Ladies Room…
Good Friday is good
not because of the betrayal,
the abandonment,
the suffering and death,
(the denial),
but because of the result:
Easter Sunday.
I ain’t bein’ brave…
I ain’t FIGHTIN’ CANCER…
I’m just sleepin’ at night,
an’ waking up with the sunrise
so far…
I’m livin’ each day,
sayin’ thanks
for food brought by friends,
for stories, for memories,
for jokes fresh or tired…
I ain’t livin’ by faith,
or swearin’ at God.
I’m breathin’ by day
and conked out more hours
by night…
This is still life.
Steve sent this @12:26 a.m. today. Though fatigued, he had a “good day” with visits from his high school friend Gary, an 18 year-old he’s mentored since the fourth grade (clarification: since the young man, not since Steve, was in the fourth grade 😮), and a yoga instructor friend who helped him “straighten up in my wheelchair”:
Profs have found that it helps cancer’s pain
To take puffs of that old Mary Jane,
And our State says it’s great,
Docs write scrips for our trips,
But what cancer symptoms can I feign?
We will know that we are Great
When the recent refugees show love
To the ones who come here next. Who learn
Words and songs, do work we know we have
Not the will or skill to do. Who burn
Hot with hope their kids will grow to be
Women, men who welcome change, who can
Live in this free land with others, see
Room to help make all our deserts bloom.
Views from the Edge 