(Commentary below poem...)
For those who do not know me, I was born with a cleft lip and palate in 1969. I was in and out of facial reconstructive surgery every other year of my childhood having at total of 14 operations between the ages of 3 months and 16 years. I was reminded sharply of that when walking Atticus this morning in one of the masks we had left over from Greg's liver transplant recovery days. The anxiety I have been feeling regarding the pandemic was made even worse by a sudden memory of going home from Children's Hospital -- clutching my mother's hand while waiting for the train at Reading Terminal Station; trying to bury my face against her side and away from the eyes of others.
The demons never die...I've just learned to acknowledge their lessons, be grateful for the wisdom and strength those lessons have given me and to stab at the devils with my pen now and then.
Be safe, be well and don't be afraid to take care of yourself however you need to...
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