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Dredging up Demeter

An anthology of poetry and accompanying art. Each poet has four poems and a piece of art. The art I chose is one of my mother's etchings.

I am not sure where the household kindle is... I have my father's too, but is it transferable? Anyhow, my daughter will be home tomorrow and I can get it then if not before.

Hugs all and thanks.

Sergeant Al Powell: I had an accident.

John McClane: The way you drive, I can see why. What'd you do? Run over your captains foot with the car?
John McClane in Die Hard

Balloon Foot

I was involved in a hit and run on President's Day. At least I think I was. I lost consciousness and came to an ambulance scooping me of the street. I couldn't even tell them the correct year in response to their queries so it took me awhile to realize the gravity of the situation. My foot was, and still is, in intense pain. At least it doesn't look like a cartoon balloon representation of a foot anymore.

I believe the driver's conscience must've gotten the better off him, or else a Good Samaritan called it in. I couldn't walk or even move without excruciating pain and I've collapsed more times than I can count. I walked for a week with a cane, but especially in the morning my whole right-leg aches.

It's not my ankle; my foot and toes carry beautiful hues of blue and purple bordering on black. And now that I'm walking incorrectly it's messing up my knee.

I'm 35 and have never broken a bone or obtained a serious injury despite being in an airbag-deployed, head-on collision. I tore off a few layers of flesh after being splashed with molten sulfur (itself requiring a hospital visit for the blood poisoning that was making its way in red snaky lines toward my heart). I also cracked a rib when I was 16, but that's it. For having led an active lifestyle that included surfing, skating, snowboarding, skiing, basketball, American football, weightlifting, and dancing, I've made it through practically unscathed.

The point of all this is that I have nothing to compare it to. If anything is broken, it would be my toes, and all they will do there is the conciliatory gesture of taping my toes together. I am definitely healing, so I am not incredibly worried. I am back on my feet and only missed one day of work.

The much scarier proposition is losing the use of your limbs. My ordeal in no way compares to a paraplegic or quadriplegic, but my admiration for them to be able to fight through the pain and adjusting to a life as a completely different physical being has risen immensely. The more difficult fight is the depression. Strong is the person who can accept their physical loss and not despair.

The Irish Sweepstakes

To be alive is enough of a reason for eternal celebration. Despair is not a natural part of the healthy human make-up. Before you despair, realize that so many have it worse than you. The chances for you having never existed are infinitely greater than the chance that your unique ass got to experience and participate in life. You won't get a second chance, so make the most of every moment and be happy to be alive

Be happy to have survived another day. I sure am. It could have been my head and not my foot that was crushed. Small miracles add up to great a salvation.

To belabor the point, they miraculously occur every day. Some people call that god (surely the vaguest all-encompassing definition ever devised but I guess that's the point), while others use karma, nature, or creation. People argue so vehemently about the supposed differences in their word of choice that they fail to realize they are all getting at the same thing. If they could work on collaboration, the things they could accomplish are inestimable. One group in particular is so obsessed with their foothold in politics that they forget their holy duty and instead lust for power - one of the deadly sins.


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