yesterday plus 4 yrs ago i began radiation treatment for the residiual bit of brain tumor that was unresectable, attached near the carotid artery. today i walk down the street, outwardly normal, inwardly heart aching for friends in turmoil, recently plunged into darkness. around me those w/ the good fortune to remain untouched by trauma of any stripe wander oblivious, but i can't really blame them. i would too. how could i not if i didn't know? today i am wearing giant bose earphones and my ipod is on shuffle and mary oliver pops up to read 'her grave' which concerns, mostly, a dog's death. these lines cut me down:
Do the cranes crying out in the high clouds think it is all their own music? A dog comes to you and lives with you in your house, but you do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the trees, or the laws which pertain to them
and the last line hits my face.
the slick mountains of love break over us