Life Force

Life Force

In long dark hours when gods
in white coats whisper lies
or promises—you pick—
and everything seems possible and true
I wake and hold a basin to her chin
Two lovers share a secret once again
It doesn't hurt she says through gritted teeth
I promise you it doesn't mean a thing

She has a might beyond the grasp of men
a force to hold infinity at bay
Where comes this strength to carry on a fight
that reason says no one can ever win
She makes a cradle of her very bones
a haven for her sons to find their way


Colleen Duncan photo I have been writing since Grade Four when I built myself a study out of bits of lumber and scraps of plywood in the basement of our family home. I write humour because it is usually best not to take life too seriously. My collection of stories "The Luckiest Guy in the World" will be published when, well, you all know how the publishing industry works. I write poetry because sometimes you have to. Lately, I have been writing poetry while caring for my wife through her terminal illness, trying to reveal what is referred to in the palliative care literature as the "gift of cancer." It has been over forty years since I built my study, since I have had a private place to write. How I would trade this silence for the sound of Margaret's fingers clacking the keyboard beside me.	Monday's Poem © Tom Brown Life Force In long dark hours when gods in white coats whisper lies or promises—you pick— and everything seems possible and true I wake and hold a basin to her chin Two lovers share a secret once again It doesn't hurt she says through gritted teeth I promise you it doesn't mean a thing She has a might beyond the grasp of men a force to hold infinity at bay Where comes this strength to carry on a fight that reason says no one can ever win She makes a cradle of her very bones a haven for her sons to find their way
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