In Honour of My Friend Who Is In Stage Four – One of Her Favourite Poets

Fear Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive. Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight. Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night. Fear of electrical storms. Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek! Fear of dogs I’ve been told won’t bite. Fear of anxiety! Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend. Fear of running out of money. Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this….

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Grace

The day we met, class was starting and I faced you, sat opposite you in circle. You were not shy about showing people, you said. Still, you weren’t speaking to me and I had not ventured out into the world since my brother died. I was shy, nervous, my balance jarred with every smile, name and conversation. When I unexpectedly saw the scar left by surgeons who removed your left breast to cancer, I was taken aback, not because I was repelled by what I saw or thought it wrong to show it, not in the least. It was only…

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Denial

  The instant the enormity of your suffering, of your spirit deflating, Crashed¬†¬†against Incalculable skies — I knew I hadn’t been listening.   Terry Gibson 1993. ************ The poems from this year were written when I attended UBC’s Creative Writing Department. While I was doing what I loved, my oldest brother’s sudden death–within one and a half years of my Dad–sent me spiralling into a deep depression. Given that, I’d love to hear from people on something. Do you see images in this? Anything? I’m trying to tap into my poetic self but am struggling. It helps to know that…

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