Have You Ever?

Much of my poetry draws on life experiences, which is doubtless true for most poets (a distinction to which I have only a passing, rather dubious claim). The following poem, however, is starkly autobiographical and intended, I suppose, as a morsel of "tough love" or "straight talk" to someone who is going through a hard time of some sort.

Have You Ever?

Have you ever followed the ambulance

And waited for the doctor, who shook his head

And said,

Your wife is dead?

Your love, your light, your reason for life

Is dead?

I have.

Have you ever gone home at dawn to tell

Your three-year-old son and his fifteen-year-old brother,

Mom is dead?

Do you hear what I said?

Then called your daughter, your dad, your loved one’s parents

With the sad news?

I have.

Have you ever waited in an exam room

Waited for the doctor, who shook his head

And said,

You have cancer?

Have you felt the jolt of fear for yourself, for your kids

Course through?

I have,

Not one time but two.

So, yes, by all means, tell me about your terrors,

Your fears and misgivings, the sharp teeth that gnaw

At your mind.

Tell me.

I know where you’re at, where you’re going.

I’ve been there.

I have.

But don’t tell me you cannot survive,

That it’s all too much, that you can’t stand the pain.

You can.

You know why?

Because I’ve been through your hell and I’m still alive.

I have survived.

I have.

You will, too.