A Stream, Running Through Her
Liesel lay under startling lights, covered in white sheets.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
The pain coursed through her
Brilliant and strong.
"Try to relax," the nurses said.
"Imagine you are somewhere else."
Liesel closed her eyes, and tried to imagine
somewhere peaceful
somewhere special
Sirens shrieked to a halt.
Stretchers rattled by.
A baby cried.
The pain ebbed and flowed.
Somewhere peaceful.
The pain glistened.
Somewhere special.
The pain rippled through her.
Ebbing, flowing, glistening
Her secret stream.
Deep under spiraled trees, high northern woods
Stone-studded, star-filled
Her special, rippling stream.
“We have to take some blood,” said the nurse.
“The needle won’t hurt too much.”
Liesel saw pine needles, fine and fragrant,
Lifting towards the sky, high above her stream.
“Time for your CAT scan,” another nurse said.
“It won’t be painful.”
Liesel saw kitten claws, dainty and sharp,
Scratching at the sand, leaving tracks beside her stream.
“We have to do some surgery, but you won’t feel a thing,” the doctor said.
Liesel closed her eyes and smiled.
Her toes were already numb,
Wading through her cold, perfect stream.
She tiptoed towards tiny frogs
Poised and quivering.
She rested by a fairy cave
Sparkling under draped moss.
She dug soft wet clay
And fashioned it into a bowl.
Liesel opened her eyes.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
The pain coursed through her
Brilliant and strong.
Liesel tiptoed into her stream.
The pain quivered.
Liesel rested with her stream.
The pain sparkled.
Liesel poured the pain
Into her clay bowl.
The pain softened.
“Time to go home,” the doctor told her.
“You’ll feel better every day.
And before you know it,
You’ll be back to your same old self.”
Day by day, Liesel felt better.
She stepped outside, holding her brother’s hand.
She rested among violets, curled under her sister’s arm.
She sipped soft broth from a warm clay bowl.
And the day finally came.
“Everything’s healed,” her father said.
“You’re back to your same old self,” her mother said.
“Just in time for our vacation.”
Liesel laughed, tumbling out of the car.
Free and bounding
Through leaning, dense trees
Down the slippery bank
Into the captured darkness, still and mirrored
Quiet except for her stream, singing
Dark except for her stream, shining
Her same self except for the stream,
Running through her
Brilliant and strong
Inside her now, forever.
© Margaret H. Mason 2007
dedicated to Eliza, who found her way through kidney surgery at the age of 9, with the help of her Botsford Cottage stream
website designed & hosted by MaRgArEt H. mAsOn © 2008 at Homestead
