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  • sealongingselkie


My brother and I are close. We grew up as good friends. I can't imagine a world without his energy and stories. Here we are studying a boat. Little did we know that 42 years later, we would have to mix up our stem cells to give him a second chance at life. Leukemia pulled all our dreams to a halt. Just living became so much more important. I was happy to donate stem cells, but I want to do more. I want to raise awareness, and spread the word that there is so much science can do. Every 3-4 minutes, someone in the US is diagnosed with a blood cancer. You can be the cure: Be the Match takes only a small cheek swob to start. There is nothing more important than saving the life of someone that has experienced this storm in their lives. Sailing the world and writing poetry is my passion, but all of that seemed meaningless without my brother. I am trying to spread awareness through poetry, which is not done much. Here are two samples from my chapbook in pre-sales "Pacific Prescription: Leukemia Cyclone." They are raw and honest poems. I would love for you to spread awareness by sharing being a match .com and by sharing our story through this sequence of poems. Love to you and yours being healthy, happy, and making your dreams come true.

A poem from the collection:


  ~after reading Transparencies by Meg Bateman

there’s a silence in the air

as I take in the group of poems—

the words that linger—

jaws, tentacles, licks, jowls

—and I am swallowed

into a scottish life—

braken, heather, thistle, clover

—have the flowers grown over me

here, land bound, a cure in my blood

have I lost myself in the evergreen

of dunes, the shore of the big pond

jaw raised, can I sing my way out

will the ocean breath me in

—make me interesting again

me—a mother wolf, four cubs

dragged about in my sharp teeth

rolled around by my rough paws

there are no bagpipes on the wind

here—no heather, no thistle

only store-bought blackberries

dè mise dhutsa—what am I to you—

sister, savior, sailor—seasickness,

anxiety turns my stomach—washed up

on the shore, no movement, waves

lap, claw, pull on my waters

the wind moves the trees

—like the soft bark-colored fur

of a squirrel—I’m unseen

scurrying with restlessness

the acorn drops—Fall arrives

am I to sink in the sand with worms

or find my blood and bones in deep sea


And another poem from the collection:


Leukemia—a memory like starlight

in space. My stem cells replace,

reboot, regrow to give the power

that burns new fight. The moon

eclipses and gives your blood

the magic myths are made from.

Bags hang, tubes stretch, your wife

by your side, my shimmer in veins.

Like the dark side of the moon,

leukemia is a memory. The bright,

full side filled with mountains,

craters, new stories to tell. New

poems to write like space needs

purpose, like starlight needs eyes.

Buy your copy in pre-sales and boost print production:

Thank you

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