[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.]
Photo of the author’s mother, Rose; frame by Rocco Marchesani
For my mother Rosa & St. Rose of Lima who suffered tortures of the flesh
You’d sometimes ask me
when you’d recover from yet another
new and terrible ordeal, unable to eat for a year
the first to be fed by a tube directly into the stomach,
Why?
When your first surgery lasted 10 hours
Dr. Ferrer walked out to father and me
shook his head in dismay and gesturing with his hands
he said, “the size of the tumor was more a grapefruit,”
far more than the orange they expected.
Your ribs had to be broken, veins and arteries pried away
your esophagus separated and reattached.
This was one of 9 more surgeries
complications, infections, esophageal stretches,
needed to rebuild the broken parts of you
the fevers would eventually stop
and then you would heal.
Each time you recovered
the fragrance of tomorrow’s bloom
was restored
Until another illness called you back
to fight for life with more vigor
enthusiasm and desire.
You not only survived, you thrived!
We would celebrate each time.
I’d take you to your favorite places
When you were able to eat again
We would do your favorite things,
A trip to Barnes and Noble, Italian restaurants
A film, until the next demise.
Your bravery and willingness to live
despite the pain and suffering
humbled and shaped our family life
as well as our careers.
I thought you and I were two wounds
trying to heal each other.
Bleeding from unknown causes
that haunted us with endless why’s
My friend said, “God is making
a new human through you.”
I thought perhaps he was right,
and bought a painting that caught my eye
of an East Indian woman
and her daughter
who kneeled before her
lovingly
removing a thorn
from her mother’s wounded foot.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Louisa Calio – Return to Mago E-Magazine (RTME)