I do this for you

By Tru Dillon May 21, 2010

The brown rice is cooked until soft
I do this for you

The bed you lie upon barely feels the weight of your emaciation

The rice taken from the flame is left to sit until cool
I do this for you

Breathing in with a wince
you see the tall blue curtains hang silently against the wall
Waves of pain ride in

A thin mesh strainer is put over a tall metallic bowl
I do this for you

Your feet unable to feel
unable to walk or bound up Pennsylvania Avenue
Poke out from under a blanket looking pale and grey

One cup of cool soft brown rice is put in the strainer
I do this for you

The coughing begins
and tears us both right through our center
You spit up blood

The wooden spoon wide and flat
slowly pushes the rice through the sieve
I do this for you

Mottos for living and words of encouragement
course through your toxic chemo brain
Out with the bad    in with the good
I can beat this    this too shall pass

Spooning up the creamed rice
It is once again and again and again
pushed through the tiny holes
I do this for you

There is no comfort in these words
in a few moments you let the utter panic of it all consume you
You quietly cry

A flowered bowl carries the delicate creamed rice into your room
I do this for you

Slowly pillows plumped behind your head
hold your thoughts in check
Optimism reigns and you smile

The small oval spoon
a relic from the baby
holds this trembling offering to your lips
I do this for you

and you are grateful

Tru Dillon has been involved in art since she was born. Drawing, painting, singing and writing have captured her interest above all else. She wrote her first book of poems at 12 years of age and has since written many more poems and is hoping someday to create another book of her poetry. For now she is content to write on the World Wide Web.