Ann Sheppard
HEATHER ANNE HUTCHISON
My Body a Means
My body simply a means
to go from here to there,
Six decades on
and I am
a broken temple
with a beating heart.
I go from room to room
my body a shining light,
My body my house,
My heart my soul.
Weather Forecast
Rain outside
Chemo inside
Me in the middle,
hoping,
yes, praying
to feel the earth again
beneath my feet
out in the garden
wind in the trees
caressing my face
Alive again.
A Small Hope
There is nothing to raise me up
from the ashes
from where I came,
No glory in the after either.
Still inside
something small
a light
shines,
a small hope
lifts me up
out from the crushing
fear
I keep trying,
keep breathing,
Why is it so hard
to die?
Tubes
All my life
I feared this place,
this space
where nothing grows.
How long have I lain
in this bed,
tubes growing out of me?
How long have I been
hooked up to this pole?
People come and go,
They are from there
and everywhere,
While I am here,
No place to go
but up or out,
Through the door
or on wings.
