About Ben Dooling

I began this blog shortly after being diagnosed with terminal rectal cancer. It has since begotten a short book of poems, most of the poems came from here. Cancer has taught me more than it has taken. It has shown me my gifts, and what an examined life is.

In the park

Maybe it’s because

a roomate is having me leave;

maybe it’s because the changes in my body;

in any case, there are so many words I can’t retrieve.

 

Like a family of fallen leaves

scattered upon the wind,

I can’t keep track of them

and find the right blend.

 

The leaves, they are

love letters from God

and i’m in the middle of a park

chasing after them, trying to prod.

 

I get a few in my arms

then the wind picks up

and the slip away

quiet as forgotten memory.

 

Nature is made of words,

at least, it is for me-

but they have lost all order

and scatter indiscriminately.

 

For now, I am in the park

trying to find my life.

All the words have been written,

but putting them together

is eating soup with a knife.

 

Angel Raphael (lyrics to a quick little blues tune)

    •  

      “Oh Sweet Angel”

      Oh, sweet angel Raphael
      I’m reachin’ out to you now!
      I hear you’re the healin’ angel
      So reach me down here somehow!

      Oh sweet Raphael, Raphael
      angel who heals all infirmity;
      I’m on my knees in the rain-
      for you can make the blind man see.

      The doctor’s givin’ me about a year
      as I stretch my arms up towards the sky;
      This cancer’s got me in a terrible fear
      and all these drugs just make me cry.

      bein’ tired all day- can’t get outta bed.
      Are these prayers fadin’ into the clouds?
      Jesus gave you the gift to keep death at bay
      but my bones are on fire and i’m screamin’ aloud!

      Raphael! find me here
      this rain is fallin hard
      too hard to bear!

      I’m tired of all these drugs
      that kill my body and spirit too,
      My will to live is flickerin’-
      ain’t no day the sky stays blue.

      On my knees, I’m on my knees
      for you, oh Raphael-
      Jesus ain’t lied to me yet
      So I know you can make me well.

      So, I cry out for mercy!
      as the rain drenches these tired clothes-
      I’m burnin’ to live and to love again!
      Raphael! stop the rain and do, and do, do what you know……

Of September and the leaning light

The first thing I think of

are High School football games,

smothered by the silence

of falling leaves.

September is the heart of youth,

no frailty or disease.

 

I’d put September in my heart

and carry it around until I die.

The colors of my heart would change,

until I drop to the earth with a sigh.

 

September, oh September-

the way your light leans;

helps me see beauty

I couldn’t see, or so it seems.

 

on a September night,

makes me long for something-

a woman’s touch, something right.

 

 

 

 

 

Mother (poem form)

I’m sitting across

from my dear sweet mother

in an apartment I live with

many another.

 

The blood tests showed

a steady rise in cancer

for the past three months,

and the doc had no answer.

 

So a cat scan was ordered

and I prepared for the worst-

lotsa tears and muted rage;

the anger came in bursts.

 

It was the longest night,

the one after the scan-

seeing visions of love undone

and the end of me as I am.

 

In a hotel room,

just me and my mom,

waiting to hear the next day

exactly what was wrong.

 

was around two pm

when i picked up the phone

and called the doc

(I was all alone.)

 

She said the scan was stable

and showed no cancer growth-

I didn’t find myself able

to hear what she spoke.

 

I had prepared for the worst-

and this is how I did it-

I let go of the bad things in life

and here they are: i’ll admit it…..

 

a goodbye to loneliness

wouldn’t be so bad,

and ‘see ya’ to cancer to.

Take care, miss rejection

I never ever liked you!

 

I’m still sittin’ here

with my mom

on a couch in the livingroom.

I’m not sure while I’m still around,

but, in no small part to her love,

maybe i’m not goin’ anywhere to soon.

 

 

 

 

Where I am

Lonely

as a whisper in a cave

 

as the color of vodka

 

as a seagull

on a city bench

no bread

too tired to fly

 

as the helpless leaf

falling from the branch

mid-autumn

 

as the basketball court

you grew up near

no nets

paint fading

 

Is this me writing

or is this cancer?

it’s the cross I bear

and I don’t have the answer