This Poem was Submitted By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-03-08 10:58:55 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!


Swimming With Mary

Like a lost contact lens –  I found Death helped me see. In this massive prison where we fought Tooth and nail, night and day To keep it at bay –  I walked Death into her room and sat  Death down and showed  Death his next card. The light over the Mississippi dims As through a different  And less dangerous lens  I see Mary again Sitting in her hospital gown Her ribcage threadbare, Heaving, sucking the oxygen From the air like a vacuum cleaner In a mad and manic search for dust In her best cyanotic blue She drifts in and out, Smiling as she gasps, Pursing her lips - politely – As if we’d mind her fetid breath Or even notice fetor – Thin as a rake handle. Eaten.  And still a smile. Her limping eyelids half-mast again. This has been going on for two weeks. The slow suffocation of cystic fibrosis. Mary has four siblings with this syndrome. The room is a morgue with a waiting list. I am unable to leave her side today. She looks worse – which is better. I cannot see the point in her suffering another day Another minute. We all hold hands and pray that she’ll learn how to swim. As I reflect on our short life together, As one of hundreds of young physicians Who sat at the foot of her bed, Listened to her jokes and her deep wet cough – I feel lucky to have known her, her family. For twenty one years they’ve known this day was coming. How long can you wait? How do you wait? You don’t. Later, after the carbon dioxide had effectively Snowed her, and the morphine had taken Her across the lake, to the safe side, the sunny shore –  I thought about our prayer, and the meaning of her life - To swim? No. That she already knew. She’d taught all of us. Not only to swim - But how to drown.

Copyright © March 2004 Thomas Edward Wright


This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-04-07 22:59:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93548
Tom: This one isn't on my list at all, I don't think. I can't leave the site tonight before commenting, albeit briefly. This is the most powerful, profoundly moving summation of an ephemral but brave life that I've read in many months (the only other poems that come close to it, in that respect, were also written by you). I believe this is your time to shine, my friend. Mary is your vehicle for raising our awareness both of how fragile, and how very marvelous, the human body and spirit can be. Sitting in her hospital gown Her ribcage threadbare, Heaving, sucking the oxygen From the air like a vacuum cleaner In a mad and manic search for dust In her best cyanotic blue She drifts in and out This is just beyond imagaining! I'm there in the room, watching and waiting. When you speak further on of the four siblings similarly afflicted, and how the room is like a morgue with serial occupants, I want to scream and weep at the same time. We lost one of our students to CF just over two years ago. It's a fairly widespread disease aong the population here, along with Niemann-Pick. Nobody knows quite why CF seems to be so prevalenet but maybe it's because there are so many Nova Scotians with common ancestry, being members of a fairly homogenous gene pool. Anyway, the swimming metpahor isn't really all that metaphorical, considering the process of this particular death. Water is both purifying and fatal. It both washes free, and drowns. Sometimes at the same time. I am unable to leave her side today. She looks worse – which is better. I cannot see the point in her suffering another day Another minute. We all hold hands and pray that she’ll learn how to swim. This is unbearably poignant! The intense wanting, the need for her to exit now, before there can be further horror. I think of her family and wonder how they are feeling, of her siblings who know what lies ahead for them. It's enough to make angels tear off their wings. Later, after the carbon dioxide had effectively Snowed her, and the morphine had taken Her across the lake, to the safe side, the sunny shore – I thought about our prayer, and the meaning of her life - There's a redemptive quality to this passage. Mary is mistress of her own destiny and has passed beyond agonizing over it. But we ... the poet, his peers, his audience ... must still contend with all the images we'll retain, the aftermath of this event. Hence, your final line, "how to drown". Yes, we know that, too. Drown in sorrow, in tears, in the overwhelming unfairness of life itself. Doctors drown more than once, don't they? I'll bet they drown a thousand times. Stunning poem, in every way!!! Brenda


This Poem was Critiqued By: Erzahl Leo M. Espino On Date: 2004-04-07 08:33:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.62500
Hi Thomas, In TPL, there are poems that are short and there are those that are long. I usually start on reading and critiquing short entries like haikus. Aside from I’m comfortable and quick with it, it is also not hard to comprehend and interpret. For long poems, I’m usually get bored and impatient. But when it comes to your “long poems”, I don’t know why but I am always entertained and excited. I never stopped or paused from reading it. You really have the knack of hypnotizing your audience. I think it is because your poems are interesting stories of real life and super inspiring. In short, it has a “heart”. Again, Dr. Thomas you have humbly shared your noble profession. And again, I have learned a lot from it. “Swimming With Mary” --- Title alone is already a winner! Unique and ear-catching! “Like a lost contact lens – I found Death helped me see.” --- Intro - another stunning read! Only you can do this playfulness and depth. “Her ribcage threadbare, Heaving, sucking the oxygen From the air like a vacuum cleaner In a mad and manic search for dust” --- The metaphors are incredibly unforgettable. It really sets the “bad” condition of little Mary. “Thin as a rake handle.” --- Sarcastically effective! “She looks worse – which is better. I cannot see the point in her suffering another day Another minute.” --- Ironically truthful. I can feel the weight of your sadden emotion. “We all hold hands and pray that she’ll learn how to swim.” --- I can feel the acceptance of family and friends to release her to the ocean of eternal freedom. “To swim? No. That she already knew. She’d taught all of us. Not only to swim - But how to drown.” --- Excellent ending! It’s like hitting two birds in one stone! Effectively, you allow your audience to participate and contemplate with your experience. It sure deserves my time to read and comment your work. In fact, I am honored! Advance congratulations to your winning piece! I agreed on the majority of giving this the tribute in highest form! Well-deserved! As always, Erzahl :) Note: I would like to thank you in advance for voting my “Destiny” as your top “ten”. Vote coming from the expert / topnotch poet like you is big time! For me, that is enough reward! I feel like a winner already!
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2004-04-03 18:50:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 7.33333
This is so well done. I cannot say more. Althought gruesome, the following phrase really bit into me..."the room is a morgue with a waiting list." Brilliant. Wish I could write like that. Yes, I've had many patients with that malady but thank goodness people are living now into their fifties with it. I also loved the way you spaced this poem...it's like in synch with Mary's breathing.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2004-04-01 14:02:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
It is hard for me to divorce myself from the emotion that this poem evokes. The delivery of the personhood of Death is dealt with dignity, not only emotionally, but with the simplicity of the phrasing, the quiet of the aftermath of the war. Quiet, yet deliberate, the phrasing underlining the inevitablility of outcome, no syrupy sentimental sadness... simply acceptance. The metaphore of the lens of memory gives us some relief from the pain of the first few lines. Still you drive us through the moment with words of poignancy, teaching us with simple yet poetic illustration, what it means to have CFS, taking us to the roots of your profession Your visual colouring of how an elderly lady might wish to appear , reveals how she wants even in death, to be at her best, not causing anyone any trouble, but easing their way if possible... The cyanosis underscored by the word 'gasps', the drifting in and out... The breaks in the poem are much needed - You were very wise. As if you want to give us time to absorb the pain of what we are reading, absorb it , take it to our hearts, our own lungs. But relentless we must continue to track death...You hold her up to us in a similie that is so speaking. You speak your admiration for her with 'and still a smile' . That simple phrase... so graceful, so full of grace is she... gives us the why of this poem. Her eyelids half mast... so perfect the phrase.... the position, the admission of death, that we might remember their life. Half closed.... the door to her life is being closed. You will no longer be allowed entry. there's nothing more you can do, except grant her the dignity of your peaceful presence... by sitting at the foot of her bed, acknowledging what she is going through, and allowing her to grace 'your' presence with her spirit. The short clips of stanzas read like nurses notes... short, pointed...your own hopes that she will not linger, the only lengthening breath. In the benediction of the stanza, there is a descending volume of actual words, but the strength is increasing. Like the image of a mountain, only in reverse... you reach the apex of your thought and reason. This throws the accent surely.... 'you don't' Then once the apex of death has been realized, you begin your descent into reminiscence. I am reminded of the quote, "And God gave us memories, that we might have roses in December." In this penultimate stanza, there is the slow comfort of promise, of meaning, and your shared place which from now will reside in memory. You give us room... you give us time with this space, you teach us in a very practical lesson how to allow dignity to be the gift that it is. I am grateful Lynda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-03-28 01:35:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ho, Just writing to see if you're still awake. I've seen this before. Has an uneven quality about it, like a life. This poem moves toward a parking spot that is reserved for only the VIPs. But somehow it doesn't quite get there. Even "moving" toward is remarkable. I don't know if anyone around here could park this thing, so . . . i give you a lot of credit. The Noxious One
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-03-27 19:39:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.56000
Dear Thomas, I had this critique all written out and somehow my computer lost it. So, let me see if I can recreate it. First of all I found the poem heart rending, and an awesome read at the same time. It has all the elements that I like in poetry. Most of all that it was written from the heart. The saddest line to me was: The room is a morgue with a waiting list. How sad to have all the children afflicted with the same terrible disease. It is so hard to see someone that you are close to die in front of your eyes. I watched as my Mom died by inches as the cancer caused paralysis from her legs on up. Finally getting to the muscles that allowed her to breathe, and mercifully she went to Heaven. Are you a Doctor? If so you are the kind of Doctor that patients love as well as families. Shows what kind of man you are that you allow yourself to have emotions for those that you are caring for. I will never forget the Doctor that delivered my still born daughter. He stayed with me over two hours, just holding my hand, not saying things like "you'll have another" or "it was for the best." He just sat there with me as I cried and listened to the newborn babies crying in the nursery across the hall. He got me transferred as soon as possible to another wing, so I wouldn't have to deal with nursery sounds, and happy families with healthy babies. He was a wonderful man. Well, Thomas, I wouldn't change a thing, this is beautiful as it is, touched my heart in a special way. Sherri
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-03-25 12:19:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Swimming With Mary love that title Like a lost contact lens – I found Death helped me see. ....how very cunningly emily dickinson sneaks in! In this massive prison where we fought Tooth and nail, night and day[i love when old expressions are made new again by a quick flick of the wrist] conjuction. To keep it at bay – I love the trangendering wisdom going on here: I walked Death into her room and sat Death down and showed Death his next card. WONDERFUL much better than the old s/he trick The light over the Mississippi dims As through a different And less dangerous lens [darkly?..too evocative I think unless it is an homage in which case as rossannadanna said..nevermind} I see Mary again Sitting in her hospital gown Her ribcage threadbare, Heaving, sucking the oxygen From the air like a vacuum cleaner In a mad and manic search for dust how powerful and dramatic your words! In her best cyanotic blue [what ironic majesty of phrasemaking!} She drifts in and out, Smiling as she gasps, Pursing her lips - politely – As if we’d mind her fetid breath Or even notice fetor – poignant enough to bring this cynic to tears in the memory of the similar death of my elegant and proper mum. Thin as a rake handle. Eaten. And still a smile. yes Her limping eyelids half-mast again. This has been going on for two weeks. The slow suffocation of cystic fibrosis. Mary has four siblings with this syndrome. The room is a morgue with a waiting list. what unimaginable woe I am unable to leave her side today. She looks worse – which is better. I cannot see the point in her suffering another day Another minute. no... We all hold hands and pray that she’ll learn how to swim. wonderful! As I reflect on our short life together, As one of hundreds of young physicians Who sat at the foot of her bed, Listened to her jokes and her deep wet cough – I feel lucky to have known her, her family. For twenty one years they’ve known this day was coming. How long can you wait? How do you wait? You don’t. Later, after the carbon dioxide had effectively Snowed her, and the morphine had taken Her across the lake, to the safe side, the sunny shore – I thought about our prayer, and the meaning of her life - To swim? No. That she already knew. She’d taught all of us. Not only to swim - But how to drown. wonderful lesson. bravo.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2004-03-17 11:08:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.28000
Poet.....I have read this over and over again........good structure, word flow keeps your attention going, images indeed they appear throughout....what can one say, what emotions am I feeling at this time? I am filled with emotions, my thoughts run back to a time when my own husband was serving in the Coast Guard and was out to sea, caught in the middle of rifle fire, many of our friends laid dying around him, emotions, indeed you have brought them to the surface......of course I have no clue as to why this reminds me of a time spent in the service since reality tells me it is of a different time, place and nature....yet death is still the same........looking forward to your response and perhaps your own answer to my inquiry as to what I am missing here for it does speak to me in this way......thanks for posting, for sharing with us....... Of course poet you have painted this picture of Mary and I can see the girl as she was, sick and dying, yet in her struggle for life she taught those taking care of her, as she also did her family, that whatever life was there for living make good use of it for indeed it was just that.....a gift to be had, shared with those you love and when the time was right for leaving she also taught the grascious way of leaving those around her.......now my spirit has seen and felt two separate images of this poem friend.......again, thanks for posting..... My mom is on a mission to die at this time.......it is not easy to watch nor to partake in.....when my sister comes to visit over the weekend I am sure she will want me to bring mom to a hospital but I am sure hospice is my next move.....God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-03-10 23:20:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.10000
Hi Thomas. Flawless observation and interpretation! You show us that you have really taught yourself how to view death, how to deal with death, how to side-step a little. This is glaring, truthful to the bone, not only in your ability to see and accept--but how to show us how to see and accept. I think, like children, we adopt your attitude and your slant without questioning. You draw me in so adeptly that I don't even know I'm there until I look closely--and there I am--feeling your feelings, thinking your thoughts. On the other hand, I have been the one in the bed gasping, pain medicine deadening the reality, loved ones there, but blurred. I actually look to you like I am in more pain than I am actually in. I can't breathe, really, but it's ok in its way. But to you, it is heart-wrenching. Both sides play their parts--each tries to play the best part he can. Love, the morphine takes her across the lake; the room is a morgue with a waiting list. This is lovely and sad, but sensitive enough to be read at her funeral services. The ending: superb! I can't say enough about it==it will stick with me forever. Thanks for sharing. Marcia McCaslin
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L. West On Date: 2004-03-10 22:56:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Hi Thomas, What a powerful piece of work! What a terrible tragedy. I worked in medical offices for several years and found that one learns to cope with the suffering of others by removing oneself emotionally. But there is always that one patient that can never be forgotten. So many times in my life I have know seriously ill people and it seems to be in every instance that more seriously ill they were, the more likely it would be that the patient would end up comforting the comforter. To be able to manage a smile while suffering such agony is nothing short of a miracle, isn't it? You have used very powerful imagery to paint this terrible scene. I feel drawn to Mary's bedside to sit and wait. As you can see, I am not yet a technical critiquer (I only recently joined the site) but I can tell you the impact of your work. One thing that I really admire is that you have humanized the physician and allowed us to understand that he does, indeed, see the patient, not just the diagnosis. I can only hope that, should I ever be seriously ill, that I would be blessed enough to have the attention of someone as compassionate and emotionally engaged as the physician you describe here. Thank you for posting. Blessings, Sherri
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-03-09 10:45:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
My GOD! The emotions you've wrenched from within me in this masterful work. I felt that I was there, trying to help her breathe, or not breathe, to swim - drown. The depth of it is brought out significantly by the distance from the title to the 1st stanza. "Death" introduced so strongly and personally was very powerful. The breaks/spacings work superbly. Beautiful in its terrible, but I am sure, accurate descriptions. I know what cancer can do, but this is certainly nearly as horrible, if not more so. My critique will show that nothing can possibly be added to strengthen or perfect this. Peace. wl
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2004-03-08 21:20:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Tom, How magnificent this piece is! It talks about HER, the one and only mother of all. Spiritually, it speaks greatly! Her holiness left an indelible imprint. Socially, it speaks of women especifically mothers who somehow live the same way as Mary did. Those who know how to drown in suffering for the welfare of others. So great! So magnificent! I run out of word but I am swimming in awe in this piece. This deserves more than an Olympic gold for swimming! Hehe! Jordan
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-03-08 14:56:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Tom. Migod, this is beautiful. You shared Mary with us - someone who knew how to live and how to die. Synchronously, I read in this morning's newspaper of a local woman with cystic fibrosis who is 36 (way past expectations) and spends her time fund-raising for research. She's not Mary, but from the article, she knows how to live. The "how to drown" seems to me one of the profoundest lessons - and most difficult. We face it or don't. Her graceful, dignified crossing "to the safe side" lends meaning to the present for all of us. The entire poem is one of elegant, crisp, honest observation, but these lines are ones I won't (can't) forget - In her best cyanotic blue She drifts in and out, Smiling as she gasps, Pursing her lips - politely – As if we’d mind her fetid breath Or even notice fetor – Thin as a rake handle. Eaten. And still a smile. What a combination - 'physician-poet' - and I count myself fortunate, because what I've learned from your poems opens new dimensions for me. It is impossible to defeat death, you show us, but we may be more fully present for others because of the insights you've shared here. Stunning in every way. Perhaps controversial for some - I don't know. Bravo! Awed, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-03-08 11:51:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Tom, I think you have surpassed yourself with this piece. In the beginning I was thinking CHF or COPD, or lung cancer but could not help but feel even more sad when I read "cystic fibrosis" a condition that is irreversible and there is no hope. "Fought tooth and nail, night and day to keep it at bay"..but in the end you had to let 'Death' into the room. You have protrayed Mary so well here with words that are gut wrenching...'rib cage threadbare, heaving, sucking, the oxygen from the air like a vacuum cleaner"..this is such a frightening read and I can only imagine how it made you feel. Even with all the medical knowledge and scientific studies at your disposal there was still nothing you could do but sit by her and pray. When I think of this agony lasting two weeks it is almost unbearable...."Thin as a rake handle" I like this descriptor...Mary's image popped into my mind as I read the words. The fact that Mary died at 21 years and she has 4 siblings at home with this killer is sad beyond compare. One wonders how parents can possible cope with this syndrome three more times. The last lines of this poem are poignant and brilliant..."she taught all of us, not only to swim but how to drown." Doleful story but very well written and so compelling from one line to the next. Peace...Marilyn p.s. I don't mean this to sound heartless but one also wonders why couples have more than on child when this syndrome is rampant?
Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!