My Mistake Last Week
A quip in class I made last week
“Breast Cancer’s sexy – talk’s more sweet
Than talk in a colon-cancer group
Because who wants to talk of poop.”
“I’m finding cancer nuanced now –
Like “Pancreatic’s death” somehow.
It used to be like that for breasts
But now it’s talked of like the rest.
This morning seen when I awoke
How Colo-rectal’s awful stroke
Has sex-dimensions for us too
Whose darker side is still taboo.
’Twas that dimension scared me such
When I that paint-blot opened up
A blood-red anus there to see
Evoked emotions deep from me.
I was not sure just what it was
I simply knew, “move on, because
It conjured thoughts profound in me
Too big and fast to clearly see.”
There are, of course, from childhood times,
Left-over fluff – both yours and mine;
But as I queried, ‘where’s the punch
That scared me half to death ’fore lunch?’ –
I let my mind roam fully free
And let it wander – on past ‘Cree’;
And then I saw it stark and bare:
‘That conflict with the Church back there’.
A gross injustice swept the Church
As purges left us in the lurch.
A clique from ‘central’ set the tone:
“You think like us, or be alone.”
Like all one-platform-parties are,
Their narrow-thinking quite bazare
They took Church words, each meaning changed,
Beneath that cover freely ranged –
Throughout the land, with sinister acts
Cloaked deeds illegal, twisted facts
Good mission-dollars paved their ways
Dubbed ‘gelding fund’ by us those days.
I’d walked with others through their fire
Till I myself aroused their ire.
When they attacked, 'I had them', then
Christ asked me to defense suspend.
It quite surprised me, for I knew
My friend had faced injustice too.
Exactly what they’d done to me
He’s sued and won – a win could see.
But Christ insistant firmly was
He gave no reason – ‘Just because
I’m asking you to drop your case
And listen closely in their race’.
It was by far my toughest feat
To lay credentials at Christ’s feet
And sit in silence, listen well,
As they droned on their petty hell.
The central piece at end did come
When one wee woman’s words did sum
Her problem with me – some felt slight
A chat with coffee could set right.
They say of Revolution times
In France such happenings like mine:
When bigger games some people play
The little fish advantage take.
I smiled, for then I certain knew,
The problem was not really, ‘Stu’;
But something larger was amiss
And far more serious than this.
I went back home my wounds to lick
Pursued my ‘Quest’, and rural shtick,
I bode my time, did other things,
Which to this cancer-point now brings.
I have no real problem with
That “Femi-nazi’, down-east clique,
So ‘gay-rights advocate’ obsessed
They can’t see much beyond their breast.
When I look back I clearly see
I was that smart once, yes-siree,
They’ll smarten up – life crashes down
On most of us, then takes our crown.
But now I see the problem here:
My kin-folk, friends, and colligues near
Were torn from me, this I can see
When exiled from community.
The cost was high, but Christ was right:
‘Just follow me – beyond your sight
Around next corner you will see
The peace you crave, it’s there for thee’.
If I’d not been to exile sent
I’d not have grasped just what he meant.
It was out there just three years back
‘Third Culture Kid’ appeared, like ‘Zap!’
That was the piece I needed so
That I could on with life could go.
It opened up for me to see –
'It’s needed for community'.
However – well and good that is,
The anger deep inside – like fizz –
Is still there unresolved I see
And strong connections seem to be:
The darker shadow of their deeds
Are linked with sexuality
So colon-cancer – poop and all
‘Sex, Death, Religion’, like Freud’s call!
How strange we’re made, and wonderfully
Connections linked so subtly
They bind us up one stage in life –
Release us then from endless strife.
I’m sure there’s more than just this part
But even now, right at the start,
I’m feeling here this great release
Just like the now-returning geese.