Bones

The way of all flesh: from bouncing baby to bumps & bruises to brittle bones.  Peggy took a fall on July 1^st and the architecture of her hip fractured in multiple places much like the world around us. A titanium plate and other restoration hardware holds together the fragments. Yet she has already managed to write two poems which is a kind of connectivity. Unbroken is her spirit.

She fell in love with the paramedic in the ambulance, with her surgeon and with  LVNs at the rehabilitation center. (This is Eros as a life force)

We are told that a hip repair results in a more difficult recovery than hip replacement.  Ambulation still has not happened; the first baby step is eagerly anticipated in the next few days. It will be a giant leap for all of us whose lives have been touched by Peggy.

The challenge now is pain management; to find a medication that will mask the hurt without causing nausea and send her into la-la land. If her psychic energy can translate into physical strength she will prevail. She is a force and even as she shuffles she soars with creativity.

Can poetry knit bones? To the extent that words transcend and transport I say, Yes. Peggy’s poetry is not prettified language; it confronts what is, grapples with reality, reaches for new dimensions and in the process the self becomes re-aligned and lifted. I don’t ask that she be buoyant, only that her feet be on the ground moving one after the other.

Putting these words on the page I am aware how therapeutic writing is for me as it is for Peggy. If I have put a positive spin on this ordeal it is because this is a letter to myself and I need to hear some good news.