From Less Fortunate Pirates – “Spared”
by Bryan Borland
Posted in response to “Thunder” by Gabrielle Bryden (and in her honor), this piece is part of my forthcoming book, Less Fortunate Pirates: Poems from the First Year Without My Father. In it, I imagine an alternative to the sudden death thrust upon my family – and ruminate on the things of which we were spared.
SPARED
Another one, yesterday. Another sympathetic doctor,
another nurse in tears despite her hardened arteries.
Thus it begins: the planning of a death at some unknown point,
weeks or months or years from now; the slow snuffing out
of life; the pragmatic brother with the carpool spreadsheet,
colored cells, who will take dad to chemotherapy; altered cells;
who will police the family meals and remove all talk of disease;
who will scrub his clothes to rid them of the stains
of hospital waiting rooms and fevered incontinence.
Another one: pancreas. Another one: liver. Who will
be the first to think of medical bills in the unmentionable
context of our dwindling inheritance; who will be strong
enough to see frailty. Another one: lung. Another one:
blood. Who will spend lunch hours hunched over keyboards
reading words like terminal and metastasized and radiation
and the size of a walnut. Who will rationalize the slow burn,
be thankful of goodbyes, be grateful of the order
of finality known long in advance.
© Bryan Borland
Bryan, I know who this is about, but–again–you ripped me to shreds with that universal knack you have. The last stanza made me cry, so thanks for that!!
It’s a beautiful, heart-wrenching, raw, honest poem. I just look forward to reading the entire book.
Thanks Chuck! I don’t mean to rip you to shreds – or maybe I do
Reminds me of a line from a Belle & Sebastian song – “‘I could kill you, sure, but I could only make you cry with these words.”
Those of who have faced this feel the deep pain expressed here…thanks for sharing yours.
Some things are universal.
Oh Bryan…it could have been like this, or like it really was, or some other way. Saying goodbye just hurts-there is no good way, is there?. Love u.
Love you too!
Great poem – love the irony of the title and the straightforward dealing with the not so straightforward issues involved. Thank you Bryan and big hugs
we’ve obviously both been thinking a lot about this whole thing – maybe it is just ‘life’s a bitch and then you die’. I agree it is always good to get a goodbye in first.
Glad to metaphorically hold hands with you on this journey, girl. I owe you an email – will send shortly.
This near liturgy of attending to an end-of-life is penetrating and thought provoking.
Thank you for that, Bryan. My father died of cancer 4 years ago – - though the time between diagnosis and death was not drawn out in a torture of days. You’ve nailed it with the way family members’ responses / reactions / ways of “surviving” it differ.
Beautiful poem, Bryan. Please hurry that next book. Its touching solace is much needed in our community.
…be thankful of the goodbyes, be grateful for the order…so, so, so true. I am going to ponder this line for a while. I believe it will put some things into better perspective for me. Thank you for another, unfortunatley, all to personal poem. You are strong.