GAS Featured Poet: Karen Friedland

Karen’s poems have been published in the Lily Poetry Review, Nixes Mate Review, One Art, and others. She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, received the 59^th Moon Prize from Writing in a Women’s Voice, and had a poem hanging on the walls of Boston’s City Hall. Her books of poems are Places That Are Gone and Tales from the Teacup Palace. She lives in the West Roxbury neighborhood of Boston with her husband and three pets. Karen is living with incurable, inoperable ovarian cancer.

Enough

I suppose I’ve had enough of this world

and her various offerings,

should this cancer take me—

enough green veiled spring-times

with quizzical robins,

enough swelling, crashing oceans,

east and west,

enough molten sunsets

captured through the stained-glass window.

Enough sleepless nights,

thrashing and sweating with self-doubt,

enough news of war,

cruelty, degradation and desperation,

enough personal experience with loss and death.

A small dog nestles into the crook of my knee—

she’s wiser than me—

and I realize afresh

that I’m not quite ready

to leave just yet.

Advice from the Incurable Cancer Patient

I will battle the beast,

and some day, possibly not far from now,

the beast will win—

it’s not personal,

it just is.

So please don’t tell me

to “just be positive!”

and “you’ll beat this thing!”

Instead, remind me to dwell

in the movements

of warrior trees in the winter wind,

and clouds like mountains

sailing past the window—

to dwell fully and absolutely in the one day

I know I have.