Deanne Napurano

Writer

Mastectomy

By

I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I went through several phases of emotional response after receiving my diagnosis. Yes, I experienced the expected reflex denial, then the self-blaming, followed by confusion, and then a gnawing sense of impatience to get on with it, but I also went through a time when I felt betrayed by my own body. I felt sure that somehow my body became aligned with the cancer, the enemy. It was during that time and immediately after surgery that this short poem began to take shape. I read this piece at a breast cancer art and poetry event, which, surprisingly, it didn’t seem to fit.

 

Mastectomy

 

The blade, a god

parting a sea of skin,

made a monster of my body.

 

Good and Evil

left their dead

across my chest –

pockets turned out,

boots stolen.

A swollen silence, settled

but disturbed.

The look of fear

in desert faces, pocked,

ossified and stretched

to the horizon, dimming,

as it dips beyond.

 

Deanne Napurano

Poetry of breast cancer

By

I was privileged to moderate a poetry event focused on voices of those who have felt the impact of breast cancer. There was undeniable power in the room.  Varied and unexpected poets took the stage: surgeons, healthcare providers, survivors, and our families. If you’ve ever doubted that a few words written in free verse or a prose paragraph with a little humor could open us to a world of emotional experience that many of us don’t talk about in our daily lives, this simple exercise would change your mind; in any given moment, we are all broken, grieving, surviving, defiant, rebellious, sentimental, terrified, grateful, invincible, loving, and vulnerable.

Yes, the event fell under the umbrella of breast cancer awareness month, but it’s so much more than pink ribbons. Most of us are already very much aware. Now, we need action, not just rubber bracelets. We can do better. So, get yourself checked out. Call your doctor. Have an exam. And, talk to the women in your life. Are they taking care of themselves? Early detection is everything.

The event received some news coverage.

Keep writing.

By

I tried out a quill pen and ink at Washington Crossing Historic Park. When I was young I was fascinated with ink pens, often searching small stationers for just the right blue cartridges. Do you remember? I still write longhand before I commit anything to Microsoft Word. If I write while I’m typing, my internal editor engages too quickly and there’s too much opportunity to quiet what could become an important, albeit awkward, word.