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She sits from where
the rainbow arches into the river.

As I eye her fishing net
she reads the question in my mind.

I'm waiting for three thirty
when tides begin to fall
but the shrimps can't go back.


When the bank begins to bare
she glides into the waves
till the water cools her *******.

I walk away knowing
she would bob up to the hour
the moon is upon her face
and she has made another morrow
from the river.
It was on a bleak afternoon
That Cancer came and abruptly announced
"I am going to be with you for ever
Follow me wherever I lead you
Fight back if you can, rather if you dare
But indomitable I am, you know"

Never had John been punched so hard
Shocked beyond even a sigh or silent moan
Dumb he stood so petrified
He saw his dreams fall apart
The sky high edifices crumbling down
The soil under his feet giving way
With a lovely family and an aspiring career

With life, he was passionately in love!

The remaining days were a Marathon race
From hospitals to labs and from oncologists to specialists
While passing through the ordeal of radiation and chemo
Bravely he fought back the pain and nausea
For hope had reigned supreme
And for his family, he must live!

"I will don my armor and brandish my steel
I will not yield! Oh! Never shall I give in
I shall make it through and come out victorious"

But soon he realized it to be a tough battle
And saw the chances of winning too bleak
The villain had almost taken his sway
And day by day his body grew frail
But his unconquerable spirit stood unperturbed
With grace he decided to accept his fate
After thirteen months of incessant struggle
His invincible life came to a peaceful halt!

At the end of his funeral rites, his best friend
Showed himself up before the congregation
In halting voice he said he was on a task
To read out a letter John had prepared
Long before his death but had kept sealed until then
Opening an envelope, with wavering hands
Like an envoy divinely ordained on a sacred mission
He took out the carefully folded sheets of paper

      The subdued murmur inside the spacious hall
Gave way to silent breathless anticipation
“My dearest family and friends” the words ran
“Long at last, I am at peace, absolutely at peace
With no emails to check, no bills to pay
No more deadlines to be worried over!
But unfortunately no charming females in sight’’

The words breathed his flamboyant humor
With his trade mark grace and copious dignity
He led the audience through his life under death sentence
He was thankful for the love and concern
His friends and family had so profusely lavished on
In his ailing days of agony and dejection
That exceeded far more than what an ordinary man
In the whole of his life time could accumulate!
The last part was a pronouncement of love
On his beloved wife and his wonderful child
Who stood by him in silent suffering by proxy
With a plea to all to keep peace with one’s soul
Despite life’s sham, drudgery and shattered dreams!

The congregation silently dispersed, walking away
Into a day of sunshine, greatly consoled and inspired!
This is the impressive story of a man who faced death in a nonchalant way which I heard from an oncologist.... !   Inspired by that account I wrote this poem which I fondly dedicate to Chris G Valliancourt.... who yielded to cancer in a similar way...! I feel sorry I didn’t read enough of his poems while he was alive... As I read many of the poems he wrote, especially towards the end, my appreciation for him grows more and more and I identify him with the character in this poem.
 Jul 2016 John Hawkins
Ovi-Odiete
Out of the darkest shell I emerge,
Bringing Out a path once trailed
I Arrive; With a story to tell
From a past once bitter
To a Path Now Fitter

Out of the grave of dreams, I Arrive
Standing on the Rays of boom
From the pains of Mirage,
To the Shadows longed for
I will take my Chances

Out of the loneliest Sea,
I conquered
Beneath the Deepest Clouds
I Fly, I sojourn without feathers
And tell my tales at Heavens Gate
We are often manacled in chains and bottled up like a genie in the bottle and most times the ability to come out of it lies within our reach, but we choose to stay hidden and locked up and so we do not see the light waiting for us to soar, so it could shine upon us.

Ovi Odiete©
 Jul 2016 John Hawkins
B
Let's get drunk together again,
Let's lose our minds and go insane,
With our words revisit the past,
Let's make something that will last.

Let's drink wine and stay up late,
Talk of love and banish hate,
Let us drink until it's hazy,
Let's, for once, do something crazy.

Let's do shots and take off clothes,
Touch and kiss until time slows,
Let's rewind to the good old days,
With our hearts and souls ablaze.

Let's drink until we fall asleep,
And let us laugh until we weep,
Baring secrets, regrets, and dreams,
No longer on warring teams.

But in the morning when we wake,
Nauseous, tired, and with headache,
Will things continue as the night before,
Or will you break my heart once more?
 Jul 2016 John Hawkins
b e mccomb
It's two a.m. and I'm suddenly thinking about how what we love most can make us the saddest. Out-of-state asphalt can't help me now. And I'm not upset about what I've lost, I'm upset about the things I can't lose, no matter how hard I try.

It hurts in the sense of being shot up with Novocaine and knowing you should feel pain but can't. It hurts like having fingernails that aren't short and playing my brother's guitar when he's not home -- uncomfortable and exciting. And I've been in bed for the last eight hours, but there's no way I can sleep now. Not when I'm consumed by all the petty facts of failure I define myself by.

I was crying this morning as I put on my makeup, and I'm still not sure if it was the eyeliner or the song playing. My face just deteriorated from there and I'm emotionally drained of all motivation to do anything but hide under an old afghan or shrink into a huge sweatshirt on my kitchen floor.

Good grief, it's just flannel, it didn't really matter. But it was her flannel, then it was my flannel, then it was my friend's flannel. Now it's just flannel, and who knows who should have it. I'm just doubting my own sanity. Every second is like reading my walls a hundred times and feeling it the same every minute.

I was expecting to write a lot of sad poetry but I wasn't expecting to be too sad to write poetry. And I don't want to move from this spot, but I guess I'll have to in the next two weeks, even though I might shake uncontrollably in the middle of the night when the lights are out. I'm not losing my mind, it's falling out, I swear.
Copyright 10/7/15 by B. E. McComb
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