Two Poems About My Son

As a mother and a poet, my son's life is often a favorite subject for my poetry. Here are two poems featuring him and written about a year apart. Looking back on changes even at his still very young age can wash me with melancholy, so I try to focus on the joys, the blessings and the beauty we have every day.

Feather Sail

Perhaps tomorrow

we will still build a sailing ship together

on the couch with your Chenilly blanket

perhaps the wooden frog will be our passenger

with Edie and Peep, the stuffy chicken and chick.

You may use the Lakenvelder hen’s feather

you found in the chicken coop

as a sail again,

the protoceratops as an astrolabe,

the bugle as a telescope,

all to guide us on our journey

across stormy seas

to exotic lands;

Mr. McGregor’s garden with Peter,

or the bowling alley with bumper lanes,

or to your friend Calder’s house in Santa Fe.

You may pull in the feather sail

and cuddle close to me

as we rock and sway

bravely through a hurricane.

You may raise the feather sail

and bring our ship safely back to shore.

Perhaps tomorrow we may do it all again,

but perhaps it was only for today.

 ~ Cassandra Wensel-Kanne 2010   

Diana Fritillary

Your hand

you are four years and eleven months old

and your hand

reaches toward mine,

gently stops me

from turning the page.

Tears are seeping

out to the banks of your thick lashes.

“Momma, look at that butterfly.”

The tears fall and you hold back a sob.

You point shakily at a

Diana Fritillary

Orange fenestration, fire,

chocolate and fragile edging

spots deviating down in size

painted delicately in the

upper corner of the page,

"Momma, it is so beautiful

that it is opening my heart

and making me cry."

So, I kiss your forehead

and you say,

“Momma, can you see it?

Can you?

Can you see it with your heart?”

Can I see anything with my heart?

Could I ever see anything with my heart?

I look at the butterfly

painted on the page,

the striking repeat of the pattern

the bold contrast of color.

Then I look at you

wipe the tears from your cheek,

I see the monsoon rains on the desert

and the moon just beginning to wane

on the night of your birth

I kiss you again,

look into your vulnerability, your hope,

your perfection

I see every star in the night sky

reflected on the surface of your tears

“I can, my love, I can see with my heart.”

 ~ Cassandra Wensel-Kanne 2011 

 

“It was about yay long”… an incidence of overly graphic gesticulation

Most of the stories I tell on myself are vintage, maybe because time heals all winces. Yesterday at Marc’s physical therapy appointment, though, I was reminded that I can still embarrass myself any time, anywhere.

 Marc and I both are infatuated with the marvelous medical benefits of physical therapy, and with our vision and grace impairments, have had frequent need for it. The PT facility Marc is going to now is in a store front on Grant Road. It is a large box of a room, with a network of paths to the weight stacks, massage tables and the traction station (or as every single patient there calls it, the rack). There are a few curtained alcoves for consultations and the more intimate procedures, but most frequently one exercises or is treated out in the open.

The waiting area is small and usually crowded. I sit and read or knit and chat. Yesterday there was only one place to sit, beside an older man wearing a paper mask. I plopped down to the right of him, settling in for the morning (Marc’s therapy takes a long time) with my tote and purse and books and Tupperware cup of yogurt’n’twigs. I usually wait until the crowd thins out before breakfasting, and since a lot of people have coffee, I don’t think it’s too rude. I acknowledged my seatmates with a smile and began to read. The masked man on my left said quietly, “Don’t worry, I won’t make you sick, I’m waiting for a marrow transplant and have almost no resistance because of the chemo.” I wanted him to be comfortable, so I said, “Oh, no worries, and I won’t make you sick—I’ve been away from my school for about six months, so I don’t have any kid-germs that will hurt you…”

He went on to describe his condition in some detail. It sounded increasingly grim until he said the disease had been arrested and the weekly therapy helped his breathing. I was so relieved to hear that he was not actually moribund that I rushed to praise the benefits of PT, how it had evolved over the past twenty years, and oh, the tools available nowadays! How useful they are and how downright elegant they can be. Why, I had been given the simplest of devices for my wrist. “It was a simple plastic rod, about yay long (holding my forefingers about eight inches apart) and about an inch and half in diameter (circling my right forefinger and thumb) and you grasped it by the base (sliding those fingers in mid air across an imaginary cylinder) and just shook it back and forth (vigorous twisting of my right wrist). It was just so effective, it was really worth the few minutes it took every day”. I’d kept my eyes on my hands to be sure my gestures were truly illustrative. I must have communicated something unintentional--I heard a snicker to my right and when I looked back to my left, that poor man, who could hardly breathe in the first place, had turned bright red and his eyes were watering. He said simply, “I imagine so.”

The story really should end here, but… I was able to escape right at that moment because Alex, Marc’s therapist called me over to explain how I was to assist Marc with his last set of home exercises. I bounded up, grabbing my purse for us to pay and leave, but as I crossed the room, I tripped over a small, short-legged trampoline leaning up on the wall next to them. Alex and Marc each caught an arm to pull me up before a full face-plant and I tried fiercely to listen to Alex, ignoring the laughter behind me.

Ok, instructions received, and final exit papers signed, I rush to just, please Lord, get out of there when Marc says, “Oh, I need my jacket!” He walks over to the reception alcove, but I know he is not going to be able to navigate the still-crowded seating area, so I push past him to pull his jacket off the wall hook. It’s the kind of hook that is wedged between horizontal slats and it comes off with the jacket. It bounces into the wastebasket in the corner. Alex calls, “Just leave it, I’ll get it later.” As I bend to retrieve it, I push Marc into the lap of the man who’d been sitting to my right. At least it wasn’t the masked man. Marc stands up and I straighten up at the same time and we bounce off each other. Alex comes over and leads Marc out of the chair maze, saying “You two do realize that this was your last authorized visit, don’t you?

Later, when I was pretty sure the waiting area would have new clients, I went back  to retrieve my tote.

Funky Shui’d

      Three people living in a tiny house can accumulate clutter almost faster than the human eye can detect. I will literally get a surface clear of any schmoo piles (technical term for piles consisting of mostly mail, paperwork and project materials), get items in said piles distributed to their proper places, and not even have time to turn my little bright eyes around before the surface is re-cluttered with someone else’s project or work. This constant battle with clutter and the seemingly unrelated challenge of trying to live for the first time in our 23 year relationship on only one income, led me to start delving into Feng Shui. So to be clear, three people living in a tiny 860 square foot house is NOT the cause of my feeling cramped and three people living on one income so I can enjoy the blessing of staying home with my son is NOT the cause of me being frugal. Nay, nay I say to that far too pedantic assessment…being un-Fung Shui’d is the problem!! My stuff being in the wrong places is the source of all our woes!! So, I needed to start reading up on all of my zones, and Chi, and my Ba’Gua (map of your energetic stations), and which elements are most beneficial where…and then let the Fung begin!!

      I entered into this endeavor with the adamant commitment that this is not about buying new stuff or discarding treasures, but about moving my existing stuff to the most energetically beneficial place. Sure, sure, I’ll throw out some clutter, donate some unused things, but NO PURCHASES!! Well, okay except the books on Fung Shui. I have to buy a couple books on Feng Shui, right? A-Ha, I’ll go to Bookman’s and use trade book credit!! Genius!! Step one, hit our book shelves and seek out some triviality or excess to trim. Three bags of books and magazines, awesome!! Step one completed and behold…more space already…aaaahhh! This is going to be great!! More Fung to be had.

     Flipping through the books to choose one, I see all kinds of easy ideas and tantalizing pictures of uncluttered spaces. This is going to rock hard!! Like spring cleaning with a spiritual purpose. Free up our creative energy, our money flow and our cohabitation energy all at once. Here I insert the image of an abundant garden surrounding a gleamingly clean and beautiful as well as functionally arranged home where my husband plays music with a big smile on his face, my son is joyfully busy at a big art project and I sip my tea while I sketch them both. This is reasonable, right? Plus, it is going to be easy as heck!! Move a couple throw pillows, dust the family photos…that sort of thing. Or…

     Wait, what do you mean my toilet is my Wealth and Prosperity Gua? Well, that sounds bad…of course I can’t move my toilet. Can I? No stop, stop, that’s ridiculous. How do we fix this? And what’s this, my bed is facing the wrong direction? Well, okay, but it’s not like it can fit any other direction in my tiny bedroom. Entryways are supposed to be clear? Really? Who doesn’t just dump their stuff there? Everyone does that. The worst thing for your Children and Creativity Gua is red and fire…so the giant red wall around my fireplace in the center of that Gua is…? Alright, I guess there is Fung Shui meaning that you got to build your house from the ground up with these properties in mind and then there’s…I don’t know…Funky Shui, which is what all the rest of us can do. Okay. I can compromise. Some good energy is better than none. Plus, who could possibly be so effed up that they would need to reconfigure all nine areas of your Ba’ Gua? I mean come on…if your health, finances, career, knowledge, relationships, family, friends, and emotional well-being ALL suck you might need more than Feng Shui. You might. I’m still pretty sure I can fix up all my minor stuff with the right portions…selections…morsels…of Fun Shooway!!

     So, okay what’s the most important thing? Family right? Absolutely!!! Turns out, I don’t even need to worry about the Wealth and Prosperity Gua because that’s all about having more than you need. Needs being met, enough money to pay the bills and not stress out, that’s right here in the Family Gua!! Perfect. My Family Gua is in my kitchen, well that certainly seems ideal! Let’s do this. Wait, what? Hmmm, metal it seems is bad energy in the Family Gua. How do you not have metal in a kitchen? Sink faucets, oven, knives, GIANT METAL UNDERCABINET VENTHOOD!! How do we fix this? Oh wait, sink is okay because even though it’s made out of metal it inherently possesses the energy of water which is fine for the Family Gua, whew! The oven? Actually fire, which is GREAT for the Family Gua! That GIANT METAL UNDERCABINET VENTHOOD that vents nowhere because it’s under a cabinet…that sticks out an entire foot past the stove in our teeny tiny kitchen…that has always been a friggin’ nightmare to clean? It has noxious Chi. Maybe I can mask it. Stick some red (representing fire) glass (representing water) tiles on it. Might have to buy those. What would that look like? Well, I am not the only one who lives here so, I ask my husband what he thinks.

“Why don’t you take the hood out? It’s ugly, vents into your face if you ever turn it on, s'a bitch to clean. Pull it out. All you need there is a light.”

                                                     ( Hood of Noxious Chi )

      What a great idea! I guess I was thinking I would pull it out and the cabinet underneath would be beautiful and magically there would be a light there. Turns out, no. It does instantly look more spacious and inviting in my tiny kitchen, but clearly this upgrade is going to take a little time and probably a little money. A little track light, some nice fiery toned glass tiles to add that good fire energy AND be easy to clean. Yeah, I like that idea. Track light, new wiring for the track light, tiles, ooh...I could get those at Fractured Earth, some grout that matches the cabinets, maybe some plexiglass to make a custom cover for the light…. I have to go the hardware store and maybe drop a couple of books off at Bookman’s before they cost me any more money!!

                                                             ( Ta-Dahh! )