LET ME BE YOUR WITNESS

THIS IS AN INVITATION TO ALL MY  BLOG READERS


On Saturday 28 September  from 2 to 3:30PM I will be leading a workshop that is free and open to the public
 It will be held at the Good Samaritans on Park Place in Pawtucket.  I will  talk about the idea of our lives as  witnesses.  And of poetry as an act of witness.

We will examine the idea of witness from the  initial act to make our own mark and  through our creative selves express that we are here.
As expressed in the poem   THE LISTENERS  "Tell them that I came and No one answered.
That I kept my word, he said."

Then we will put the mirrors down. And make the turn to look at the world we  were born into.

Drawing on the work of Carolyn Forche  who  moved from the self-witness of poetry to  make the outward turn and bear witness to the world that she was placed in  by the fate of her birth and nation.
Each of us are called to make that turn and to transcribe what we see and what we see other people enduring in our  writing.

WE will look at a few examples from poets who have made that  turn. 
Poets like Hikmet, and Whitman, and Neruda.
 .
Some have  decided to bear witness to the  misfortunes  and injustices of other people  that they are sharing the globe with in this finite time that we have on earth.

Some have turned to bear witness to the glory of the  natural world.  Flowers, trees, sunsets have inspired them. Think of  "I wandered lonely as a cloud." 

Some see through the glories of nature to witness the  Hand of God the Creator and they bear witness to the DIVINE PRESENCE in  the world. Think of a simple poem like Joyce Kilmer's "Trees"
"Poems are made by fools like me. But only God can make a tree."


All of these varieties of  Witness are parts of the poetic  purpose
.
We  will  also take some time to look at  current issues as reported in the news and see if and how each of us can bear witness to those events  in our own writing.


Join us in person  on Saturday if you can. Or use this mini-outline to be with us in spirit and to continue your own journey as WITNESS.

BEARING WITNESS TO OUR ANCESTORS

HERE IS A POEM THAT REMEMBERS THE BELOVED DEAD.  IT IS  A SOLDIER'S STORY AND WAS ONE THAT WE MEMORIZED IN GRAMMAR SCHOOL.  I LOVED THE LAST LINE.

The poet Robert Southey wrote an account of the battle and the burial events. His account was read by Charles Wolfe, a young country parson at a place named Donaghmore, in Ireland. Wolfe then wrote this poem, in 1814, when he was 22 years old.

The poem was published in a provincial Irish newspaper three years later. Lord Byron discovered it five years after that, admired it tremendously, but did not know who had written it.

Wolfe was not conclusively identified as the author until after his death from TB in 1823, at age 31.

The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna (1817) Charles Wolfe Oxford English Dictionary (OED) Links On Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O’er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him, But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun  That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But left him alone with his glory.

COLD COMFORT IN The BUCKET

MOVING INTO THE DARK

If you pause to think about it you must admit that we are always going into the unknown.  WE barricade ourselves from that truth by going into familiar places or seeing people we  know well.

But life still unfolds moment by moment and is packed with surprises. Maybe that is why some of us  become control freaks--trying hard to control and limit the parts of our lives that we can control and limit.  But even that is changing as we age--foods that I once ate with  great appetite are now somehow unsavory or unappealing.  
The pain that I had hated for so long is supplanted by a new pain that makes me almost wish the old pain would return.  This new one is harsh and so unpredictable.

The lessons that time teaches are hard but they also have a  brilliance. They force us to cherish what we  do have--what is left..  And to see the value in the commonplace to love the face that the world still shows us of  day and night and the passing seasons.

Te Deum by Charles Reznikoff

     Not because of victories
     I sing,
     having none,
     but for the common sunshine,
     the breeze,
     the largess of the spring.

     Not for victory
     but for the day’s work done
     as well as I was able;
     not for a seat upon the dais
     but at the common table.

After Frost’s Moon Compass by Jane Buel Bradley

A silver eyelash in the sunset sky
draws me outside to look and dream the why
this monthly promise always stirs my soul
and keeps me hopeful that before the whole
full moon lights up the autumn’s darkest night
I shall find words to speak of my delight
in this world’s beauty and begin to face
the waning and the darkness with some grace.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

NOTHING HUMAN STAYS  EITHER. We are always in the act of leaving.

.Packing up is difficult, full of tiny questions: will the predicted weather hold? Which shoes will blister tender feet?  But, what I am certain will be useful are the words that comfort and guide into the unknown, which is after all, though we might wish it otherwise, the only place we travel.

We are halfway through SEPTEMBER here in

Rhode Island.  Time to buy apples and drink cider.

Soon we will be at the EQUINOX. 

One moment of perfect balance of darkness and light.

NOT WHAT WE HAVE READ

THE FIRST TIME I READ THIS PASSAGE IT ACTUALLY SCARED ME

'At the Day of Judgement, we shall not be asked what we have read, but what we have done; not how eloquently we have spoken, but how holily we have lived. Tell me, where are now all those Masters and Doctors whom you knew so well in their lifetime in the full flower of their learning? Other men now sit in their seats, and they are hardly ever called to mind. In their lifetime they seemed of great account, but now no one speaks of them." Thomas a Kempis

I guess that passage spoke to me because I had  from early childhood  found  my personal value  measured by what I had read,  And in a funny way READING was the one activity that my mother never interrupted or disparaged.
As long as I was reading I was safe and sound.

My mother always praised me for reading. She took me to two libraries every Saturday from the time that I was four years old.  One was a Catholic lending library on  High Street in downtown Pawtucket and the other was the august  Public Library that still stands there at the top of the hill.

She believed in reading and was encouraged in this belief by her brother, Brother Cyril.  She took his advice and insisted that my reading should balance, and that I should read a religious book for every secular book.  Also I was not allowed to read any book published after 1920 or the end of World War.

According to my mother,reading was a form of self education and would help me to advance in the actual world of classes and degrees. Of course, she was absolutely right about that.

Whenever  my Aunt Anna would chide me for not doing enough housework, my mother would defend me with the words "Oh she will be a Mother Superior; the other nuns will take care of the dishes."
Anna had no answer for that. AND to me she would say--"what ever you do stay in school and go as far as possible even to college. Education is one thing that no one can take away from you."

My mother followed her own advice her entire life. In fact when I did go away to college, she would ask me to send her a copy of my reading list for  my literature classes and she would read the same books. 
Now that is devotion to learning and also attests to the unfairness that was forced upon her when she finished the Eighth grade first in her class and was awarded a five dollar prize and the next day her father forced her to get a job sweeping out in Coats Knitting Mill. Her formal education was
over at fourteen. 

POEM BY THE BEAT FRIAR

• Poet's Page
• Pom

The Poet Is Dead - Poem by William Everson

Autoplay next video

(excerpt from Everson's memorial for Robinson Jeffers)

Snow on the headland,
The strangely beautiful
Oblique concurrence,
The strangely beautiful
Setting of death.

The great tongue
Dries in the mouth. I told you.
The voiceless throat
Cools silence. And the sea-granite eyes.
Washed the sibilant waters
That stretched lips kiss peace.

The poet is dead.

Nor will ever again hear the sea lions
Grunt in the kelp at Point Lobos.
Nor look to the south when the grunion
Run the Pacific, and the plunging
Shearwaters, insatiable,
Stun themselves in the sea.

William Everson

This slice of Everson's tribute to his model and inspiration Robinson Jeffers displays
his rich command of language and his constant  discovery of profound allusions and figures of speech in the world of nature.

Everson saw the world as a witness to  God's creativity and he was in  awe of it.

His  view of the natural world  is  haunted by the Hand of God and he refuses to ignore it or to give the power to Nature alone.

 He  finds always the Divine Hand shaping and making everything.  This is his  way of bearing witness  to the way everything that God made bears witness not to itself or to humanity but to the Divine Will that shapes us all.

It is a kind of ecstasy that shines in many of his poems and that showed clearly in his poetry readings when he toured as Brother Antoninus.

I was privileged to witness several of  those extraordinary events and I advise my readers to look  on YOUTUBE for an actual  video of one of his " readings as encounter".

THE EAGLE IS STILL SOARING

 THE RUSSIAN EAGLE FORCES A SUBMISSION!

Khabib Nurmagomedov forced a submission from Dustin Poirier in the third round of their championship  fight in Abu Dhabai. UAE.

Khabib looked strong and was mostly on the offensive.
 The  struggling Poirier managed to land only a couple of punches that fazed the Russian champ.

 Khabib has a bright future and it is not clear what his next match will be,
 I did not  Pay to view but the day after the event there were many blow by  blow descriptions on line.

One lesson that the Eagle has taught often  but which Poirier did  not heed.
Never let Khabib trip you and take you to the floor

 He is a master grappler and in a short time he will have you in a choke hold.  That was  what happened to Dustin.

DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU!

HOW DOES IT FEEL?

Not just the title to a great Bob Dylan Song but a description of aging, sickness with you and those around you weakening daily.

How does it feel
To be on your own
With No Direction Home
Like a rolling stone.

Or a recent poem  says it  with more  humor:

While I Was Sleeping by Olivia Stiffler my daughter's hair turned gray. Great nieces and nephews returned from college some with degrees some with babies some with the same bad habits. My granddaughter wore a boyfriend handcuffed to her wrist. My husband grew cataracts and seemed confused. As was I waking to this drama having skipped whole scenes afraid of the set-change crew. "While I Was Sleeping" by Olivia Stiffler from Hiding in Plain Sight. © Olivia Stiffler. Dos Madres, 2017

SEPSIS SURVIVAL IN THE BUCKET

ON THE LAST DAY OF  MAY 2019 SEPTIC SHOCK BLIND-SIDED ME!

SEPSIS SURVIVER ACCOUNT

Sepsis is a problem in hospitals all over the world and one that has increased in American hospitals. September 13 is WORLD SEPSIS DAY and September is Sepsis Awareness month.

I am writing to relate my own experience of Sepsis and Septic Shock and to make other Rhode Islanders and my readers worldwide  realize that they and their loved ones are not alone but are part of an increasing number of victims of this dreaded systemic infection

.

Dr Susan Duffy of Hasbro Children's Hospital wars of the special dangers of sepsis to infants and babies:

“Sepsis is the leading cause of serious illness and death among American children and affects more than 42,000 children annually.

The move to enhance sepsis care at Hasbro Children’s is a response to the recognition that sepsis is the major cause of death in children worldwide, with over 18 million cases per year. 

Sepsis is the leading cause of serious illness and death among American children and affects more than 42,000 children annually. It is the number one cause of inpatient pediatric mortality and  accounts  for 7 to 9 percent of all pediatric deaths.

At Hasbro Children’s Hospital, sepsis is the leading cause of inpatient deaths. Between 2009 and 2015 there were 102 intensive care deaths; 31 percent had a sepsis-related diagnosis and 47 percent of deaths had a related infectious etiology. The mortality from sepsis is highest in infants and children with chronic medical conditions, but it also affects otherwise healthy children.  

The costs of pediatric sepsis are significant, not only because of acute care but also because up to 40 percent of survivors suffer from lifelong disabilities, which increases associated costs.

Sepsis Is a Medical Emergency

Pediatric sepsis is a medical emergency and survival is linked to timely treatment with targeted antibiotics, isotonic fluids, vasopressors, and aggressive supportive care. In 2017, approximately 200 patients at Hasbro Children’s Hospital were treated for severe sepsis or septic shock, and there were 6 sepsis-related deaths.

Sepsis is caused by the body’s dysregulated response to infection. Unlike most adults with sepsis, the presentation of sepsis in children appears on a spectrum, with the early signs and  symptoms  overlapping routine childhood illness.

The first indications of sepsis in children may be alterations in heart rate and temperature, and subtle changes in perfusion that signal systemic dysfunction. The onset of sepsis is difficult to predict, but once the systemic response to severe infection begins, it is challenging to manage. For that reason, specific screening for risk factors and early signs of sepsis should occur in all settings that care for childhood illnesses.”

The 2019 Sepsis Awareness Survey revealed that most U.S. adults are more aware of less common and less deadly conditions than they are of sepsis, which takes a life every two minutes.   For example, despite stroke affecting less than half the number of people diagnosed with sepsis each year, the three stroke symptoms listed in the survey were correctly identified by most adults (57%). Yet, more than one-third of adults say they do not know the symptoms of sepsis at all, and only 14% could correctly identify the four symptoms of sepsis listed in the survey.

SUDDENLY IT BECAME PERSONAL

My personal encounter with sepsis and Septic Shock started the last day of May 2019. I was at home in Pawtucket and I was frightened because I felt exhausted and was finding it difficult to walk because of the dizziness and light- headed feelings. I use a walker due to chronic pain caused by ruptured discs and sciatica. This was a different severe pain that had moved from my lower back to my left abdomen. I worried about kidney stones. I took my temperature and it was 100 degrees. This added to my fears because in the past when I have had a UTI I would not spike a raised temperature. I knew that for me a high temp meant that something wicked was coming.

A friend of me came by because she was alarmed by my symptoms and horrified by my appearance. She called 911 immediately and promised to care for my husband. When the local firemen arrived, she asked them to evaluate me They said that I was very sick and should be taken to an emergency room. All my doctors are at Brigham Hospital in Boston and we asked if they would take me there, but they refused. They would only take me to a Rhode Island hospital.  My friend pressed them and asked if there were any private ambulance services that would take me to Boston. She called a couple of their suggestions and finally found one that was willing to go to Boston and had an available ambulance.

I hardly recall the ride but I do remember how the man in the back with me kept talking and keeping me awake and monitoring my vital signs. We were rushed into the Emergency Room at Brigham Hospital and I was soon on a gurney. My temp was 103 degrees. “You just went to the head of the line,” the orderly said as we moved swiftly into the operating room. When I awoke I was in the Intensive Care Unit with Septic Shock.

I felt my limitations so severely when I was in Septic Shock. I could not think straight. I was so grateful when my old college friend Terry appeared in my room. She was attending the celebration of 100 years of Emmanuel College. She was so funny and so sane. Then my son Joe appeared –he had flown all the way from Los Angeles-- and brought my husband Yash up from Pawtucket daily. Later Mary Ellen came from New York and her sister Clare--such rocks of friendship and stability.

Can you let God “look upon you in your lowliness,” as Mary put it (Luke 1:48), without waiting for some future moment when you believe you are worthy? Consider these words inspired by John of the Cross: “Love what God sees in you.” What does God see in me? I guess his own IMAGE, the bit of divinity that he created and gave to each of us--my immortal soul. 

I tried hard to dwell on that while I was in the ICU and in Septic Shock but it eluded me. Only the visits of the Chaplain and the Reikei volunteers conveyed a sense of peace and also a sense that there was a place beyond this. After one session, the Reikei person said-- you kept on talking about the bright light. But you were sent back. Now you must discover--WHAT WERE YOU SENT BACK TO DO?

WHAT WAS I SENT BACK TO DO?

  I am not the first and I will not be the last , So I should tell what happened to me and unite with others.

This understanding of what I could do now came clearer to me yesterday. Stephanie a personal home aide came to help me bathe and in conversation I told her about my Septic Shock experience and she told me that her mother-in-law had died of Septic shock last October. Her description of that woman's two year downhill spiral was such a mirror of my own. The only difference was that she was re-admitted to a hospital and she became sepsis again.

This made me also more aware of how each of us is so alone with our experience. Some hospitals have support groups for Septic Shock Survivers, but I do not know of any and I certainly have not been invited to participate in one.

This is wrong—it is part I fear of a cover-up mentality that afflicts American life.

Instead of facing our flaws we deny them and nothing improves.

That is why it is important to participate in SEPSIS AWARENESS MONTH and SEPSIS AWARENESS DAY –SEPTEMBER 13. This blog account of my experience is my attempt to make readers aware and also to tell all the other Septic survivors in Rhode Island that you are not alone.

Let us unite and get the word out there