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dealing with deleting “cancer”
It is a confession of sorts. I do not want to write about being diagnosed with cancer, living with cancer, or expecting to die from cancer. In the beginning, cancer hung from every sentence, anchoring me down to an unfamiliar place, where one could easily get lost, were it not for the kindness of strangers. Like Rhonda, not a stranger…
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catching poetry’s life lines
My parents were raised in rural County Derry at a time and place that produced the “folk healer,” that individual uniquely gifted with “the cure” or “the charm” for whatever ailed them. Consulted only after it was determined that the medical doctor was flummoxed, the folk healer meted out charms in plasters and poultices, in potions that swirled in brown bottles. It was…
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we’ll take a cup of kindness yet . . .
January 1, 2013 2:00AM All is quiet – the right time for taking stock. My parents are here, fast asleep having brought in this New Year far from their Castledawson home with the fireworks we’ve been saving for a special occasion and, for luck, my husband designated as the ‘first-footer’ after midnight. Sweet relief to shut the door against the…
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naming names
Flanked by row upon row of flagpoles set five feet apart, if we stretch out our arms, we can touch two lives at a time, lest we forget what happened on September 11, 2001. The 9.11 memorial in Tempe, Arizona, is heartbreakingly beautiful, each one of its 2,996 flags signifying a life taken on that horrific autumn morning. As my daughter…