Pain isolates

Pain isolates—
When your wing breaks
and you need a little time to heal,
let the memory of her soul after death
console you
Mom took care of us all
So when she stumbles subtly
my brothers don’t see it
But I see it and take her arm
and hold her steady
She thanks me
Physical pain and mental pain
are both of a type
but not the same
And all pain, though informative,
isn’t information
When I feel Mom’s spirit
in a living woman
sometimes I reach out to her
and this, isn’t always, error
When we deviate from our patterns
don’t count on it
We’ll revert to pattern presently
Does that one see another man?
There’s always, for her, another man
What you cleverly used to hide
your face will one day show
Look at that old woman now
No amount of botox can help her
Nothing, for her, is concealed
We live well into old age some of us—
with curiosity, empathy, humanity and humor
Unless you wear your erudition lightly
no one will be able to stand you
When her body relentlessly fails her
what she mostly feels is terror
Unlucky in love so you ask, “Why me?”
And Grandma would respond
“Why not you?
Listen to your Wagner and Bruckner”
So you’re ill, alone or hurt “Why me?”
“Why not you?”
Why didn’t I fall for that one
so pretty, sexy, hot and smart?
Because I can’t un-know what I know
and to fall is not what
I choose, anymore, to do
Is there anything stupider, or funnier than
rational people who would rationally defend
our stubborn, vexatious, persistent, irrationalities?
Mom in pain—
We get in a cab the four of us
Nauseous, she explains to the cab driver
the way to the hospital in the Bronx
None of them ever seemed to know
or they pretended not to know
Who wants to drive sick people?
We all go through the hospital entrance
I’m pale and scared and we call for help
One orderly grabs one of my arms
another grabs my other arm
as they try to gently whisk me into a wheelchair
“No it’s not me it’s her!!!” we tell them
As I point to Mom and even she,
sick as she was, had to laugh




-April 2, 2016-