Trending
Diana Newquist Parson, of Ottumwa, has terminal liver cancer. "We’re all terminal," she says. Diana, a writer, interviewed numerous women who were suffering from illness, grief or some other tragedy, converted their stories into free verse, and published them in her book "Dusty Women" (from "Ashes to Ashes… Dust to Dust…") "Mary" is a poem from the book. I selected it because I too have driven that same route to the Mayo Clinic and had similar feelings. "Dusty Women" can be found on Amazon along with Diana’s other books.
Mary
by Diana Newquist Parson
Scenes we count on the way
To Mayo Clinic…
To pass the time,
To count the miles,
To reflect.
Little unpainted house
With old appliances on the porch
And in the yard…
And a light always burning at the door.
Three houses in a row
With yellow siding and green roofs
The tiny town with
The elegant buildings.
The house that is painted black…
All Black
With only shiny windows
Proving it is a house.
The house that looks strangely awkward
As if the roof could at any moment tip and fall.
The corn field with precisely placed rows
That looks as if
Grant Wood must have been there.
The tangled woods along
Wet lands.
Cemeteries:
Sixteen… yes, the actual name.
St. Pauls.
Alcock.
Springfield.
The one with infinite rows of peonies.
The one with old stones
That look like medieval domes.
The sign for the Little Brown Church
In Nashua.
The Catholic church
With rows of bleachers
Facing the highway.
The gas station where we
Use the bathroom…
And the gas station where we will never
Use the bathroom.
Two large bridges…
But only one crosses the Cedar River.
The turn we always miss
And the place we always turn around.
The Grout Museum
Which does not contain grout.
A myriad of small streams
With animal names:
Fox.
North Skunk. South Skunk.
Turkey.
Bear.
The last town in the state.
And the "Welcome to Minnesota" sign.
Milestones.
Landmarks.
We count them off,
Call them by name
To create some sort of order,
Some sort of familiarity,
Some sort of sense and anchor
To this cancer journey,
Trekking to Mayo Clinic.
I become part of each.
Sometimes the black house.
Sometimes just fitting in,
Conforming
Like one of the yellow houses.
Today I am the awkward house,
They tried.
And it had a purpose,
But the sense
of teetering
And listing
And ready to fall…
Today that is me.
------------
Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt is available for public speaking.