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: https://bethematch.org. 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:
"forgotten"
~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:
"Transplant"
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: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/.../pacific.../
Thank you
