Dying to Recover

A Spinning Top

Perpetual motion, until I falter
and spin backwards
Du spinnst! ‘You’re crazy,’ but…
Am I just spinning from fatigue
or spinning a silk thread
into a tapestry that will radiate
with hue and luster
to capture the eyes, the imagination, the other, the me
the now
I’ll try again, riveted by the perfect spin, again
the falter, an imbalance
the letting go of perfection, of symmetry
of unifying action
The falter is awaited, the spin…
Ahhh, there it is
backwards
into an inelegant pirouette
to a stop

If Dying Were Easy

Though there have been close calls,
dying is a part of life
I’ve missed doing,
so far.
 
Two elders
speak freely of ghosts—
being ready, no, yearning
to move on/beyond.
 
Their patience is tested
by illness, lost memory.
They feel most grateful,
but…is it so easy.
 
For the one near 100
she misses her brother.
For the one in the present
she misses her lover.
 
They miss the ones past
that haunt their old haunts,
that share their old dreams,
that linger around them.
 
When you’ve lived a long life,
those you’ve known are long gone,
and those who are young
only live for the morn.
 
You are left—
awaiting…

Everything But

Shards and slices and prisms
and flashes of spinning
of
My Everything
 
Coloured pieces strung along with
others that match or
make sharp the difference
A soft change to hard
 
Harsh
Slip away charge back
The Everything
is
 
All this

I Will Always Love You

I see it now
Because I will
Because I knew
When I met you
I would
 
Oh a jump
into the deep heart of Italy
Across an ocean so broad
in a language of music
so sweet and so flowing
 
We recognized each other
at the Arlesega Villa
where we worked
with silky smooth plaster
making masks, full of drama
 
Cultivating instinct
so close to my heart
in Canada
we made a child
a leap off a cliff
 
And into the void
and into
The Everything
We did it!
Twice!
 
Then we tried oh we tried
to understand one another
Yet we parted, searching for…
but like when we began,
we became close friends
 
Some thought we wouldn’t
or couldn’t stay civil
But we did keep the bond
up to and over
the end
 
Your end was lurking
inside the pain
just ‘round the corner
The end was
near
 
But then you let in
the fun and the art
You wanted to eat!
and devoured with gusto
the pasta, the ribs, il tiramisù
 
You grabbed your life
and finally heard
the people who came
your soulmates and students
close family and friends
 
They brought you love,
with thanks for
the once angry artist, The Pirate, explorer,
the fierce loving father
The whole

Loss, A Fine Line

So much to do 
Oh I remember this feeling  
Momentum means movement 
So why stop now 
 
So much to do 
Letting go, holding on 
Holding on to your wonder
As you learned to be loved 
 
So much to do 
Will it ever end 
I am so tired 
And more yet to come 
 
So much to do 
The hard part is over 
The caring and waiting 
The living ‘til dying 
 
So much to do 
Now the cleaning and clearing 
The grieving and laughing 
The ashes and ceremony 
 
So much to do 
And yet...I see the quiet 
I feel the quiet 
I steal the quiet...

Absence Is A Movement

There
across the lake
 
I squint in the late sun and see
either you or a loon at the shoreline
I plunge into cool water, swim to catch up
before you
 
disappear again
I pull myself up and out
follow the path
look up as sun filters through the tree canopies
 
lower my eyes to watch
my feet move
ahead to a clearing
the crunching
 
reaches my ears
my steps slow
now quiet
deliberate
 
I come upon
a doe, she
sniffs
the air
 
We hold
our breath
time
stops
 
I speak softly
she turns her eyes
on me
she chooses
 
To stay

The Body Work

Each morning
I do not rise.
I be for a bit in bed
The act of not doing
 
As of today I scan from toe to tip of head
It’s hard because I’m distracted, tired, tired of everything
So I start again
Being in my mind and in my body from the tips of my toes
Along the bottom of my heels
Through the joints up the long bones of my legs
Around the hips and groin
The belly and diaphragm
The chest and the arms
 
Oh the arms
I start at the tips of my fingers and thumb
Just moving my self, my mind
Up the long forearm bones and elbows to the shoulders
Slowly so slowly
Distracted, tired
Start over
 
It is like this on the days I remember to be
 
I pull my bent knee to my shoulder
One knee after the other
Holding and breathing
Breathing is key
Without it
I am
Not
In the mind in the body
At least I am trying
 
Strengthen cognition, flicking eyes left to right
Reducing dementia say the journals re risk
As I age
In place
Breathing exercises, lie prone
Finish with a twist of this knee
One side to the other
Then repeat with the other to this side and that
 
Mindful, I hear the voice of the monk
It mesmerizes
Pulls me along
Whether on video or inside my mind
Slowness is key
Mind moving with body
 
On more active days
(they’re increasing)
My walks get swifter, with a dash
To quicken the pulse
To push sweat through my pores
To challenge the heart

Empty

Empty out
Break stuff down
Put like with like
Give away
Destroy pulverize vapourize
Use
Deploy
Refresh
 
Do stuff
Move stuff
Put like with like
Bring back the flow
Open the middle
The body work is done
Now the environs, the room
the materials the photos the paintings
the memories
Put like with like
 
You have eaten and taken care of everything else
The garden is growing
The laundry is done
The floors are gleaming
The hot soup is on
The day is ready
except for now
 
Time for the hard stuff
You’ve put it off
It’s been a long while
of caring then losing with mountains of papers
 
It’s time to move stuff
to see stuff
Just do it for God’s sake
 
I pick up the drafting set
Inside is my card to him
‘Thank you for loving our children
as much as I do’
I catch my breath
at how lucky I’ve been
and sob.

Breathe Slower, Thank Ram Dass

Breathe through it
I lived through heart pain
And heart ache before
When I birthed our babies
 
Thanks, Ram Dass
For bringing Eastern wisdom to the West
For teaching me how to breathe
To explore while young
To be present in pain
Your name for it—“Being”
Just Be Here Now
 
My heart needs no challenges (I say to my mind)
It is over-challenged, stretched, from wearing and tearing
It is tired and sad
From loving and losing
My poor heart, my poor loves, my my my…
 
Oh it’s all about me
and my losses and losing
It gets old and boring
As I recount them over and over
Several of them happened
simultaneously
exhaustively
 
But…but…
there is rebuilding, rejuvenation
There is healing
I feel it on good days
 
Though I don’t snap back
To being
Well
 
I join the gym after years away
My survival at stake, not just muscles wasting
The treadmill, the weights, the stretching
The hydro massage
Oh the hydro massage makes it worthwhile
It’s top of my list for rejoining the gym
A deep muscle warming and kneading
Challenging soothing and good
 
The work of the body, 
It challenges the mind
Remember to
Well…Everything.
 
Remember my self
Before I spent it on others
They needed me, still do
 
I have to put myself first
Start with the body
The sleep
I hear like sharp shots
My volatile answers
To questions and offers
To the heavy weight
Of responsibility
 
The anger helps
A desire for quiet, for solitude and peace and…
 
All you around me
Stop asking me things
Stop needing me
Needing actions attention
You pull me down
Into your orbit
The spiral the whirlpool
Yes, the vortex pulls me under
So
 
Body work
Save yourself says my core
Save yourself
Yet the pull is
To spend my self

Ashes To Ashes

Ashes to ashes
Or at least to Italy
Oh yes and don’t forget at the river by the balancing stones with Felice
And beside Daddy in the cemetery
And in Katy’s bracelet
And in Sarah’s museum
And at the Villa in Arlesega
And in Mim’s memory
Spread hither and yon
Georgette took you to BC
They spread you at the Sandbanks
Laurence and Adrian took you abroad
We’ll bring some of you to Marinella
You don’t believe in all this
Never cared where you rested
Yet we go through the process
Of finding you places
To rest
It’s for us, dear thing, it’s for us

Artist’s statement

Karen Joan Watson

Inspired by, surrounded by, living with Lotsa dying. Seeking refuge and balance through writing in community. Thank you, dear sister writers and fellow writers, you are such good readers! ❤️ KJW

—Karen Joan Watson, Canadian 🇨🇦 writer and visual artist, kjwatson.ca