9..11 Feb 2013

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Friday did 20 minutes on the rowing machine. Nothing Sat/Sun.

Loss comes in dreams I can never remember
The months run together from May to September,
And today I discovered a dot, hard and angry
Which unlike the others gives pain when touched even gently.

I know the drill, I log the health incident in my Word list
Of tasks, mostly unpleasant, that may not be undone and may not be missed,
Using red “ink” so I can readily review it with Doctor
And stun me for a versifier why do I think “Proctor”
Oops there it went a vomitus of words
Mostly for the birds.

The point is, in logging symptoms and pain
I thereafter maintain an even strain
I don’t obsess about the symptom and what it may mean
For it could mean anything. Eyes have not seen
God or what he has in store for us
So there’s no point at all in kicking up a fuss.
“Let go and let god” is a maxim even for the agnostic
Or for any religion whether Protestant or Catholic
Or your own awe at the moral law within and the starry heavens above.
God may or may not be a God of love
But that’s what we construct when we do good
In the world or just da hood.
The Kitchen God looks up and is fed
Soup by the peasant girl even tho given his lack of thrift,
The chow was undeser-ved.
Let the upper classes make gods of money and stone
The toilers circa 500 BC made gods of blood and bone.

But I digress I was saying that rather than on my pain, dine and hog,
I just keep a log.
And Death, looking over my shoulder says with curiosity
Are you writing ’bout me.

Father, dear crabby Father, who art in Heaven,
Who so rarely had a kind word for me
Because he was of need, afraid:
Ask for me tomorrow you may find me a graver man
But for today, I am on the “one day at a time” plan.

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