by Ethel Mortenson Davis
In my two weeks of absence
I deeply missed
Shiva, my dog.
When I arrived home
she danced in circles;
then approached me slowly,
smelling my head—
smelling bone, flesh and brain fluid
slipped into my breath.
At night she lay
her head across
my chest,
like the old nurse
from the night shift,
an angel of mercy,
who came to my rescue.
The old dog who knew
about healing;
she showed me
how to be human.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
He was the head
of Oncology,
a great mountain of a man
who wore a beautiful suit.
He greeted the young man
who was dying and his parents.
When the young man’s friends
went above the doctor’s head
to try to get him admitted
to another hospital,
for they loved the young man,
the doctor never came back
to check on the dying man,
but sent his assistant—
would not acknowledge the parents
when they saw him in the hallways.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Alazanto, Kevin Davis
Note: One of the most wonderful things in Kevin’s life was Leo. When he was so sick he could hardly move, Leo was brought to the hospital in Poughkeepsie. Kevin was wheeled to the first floor in a wheel chair. There was no expectation that he would be able to go home again at that point, although that turned out not to be true. The minute he saw Leo Kevin surprised everyone by getting out of the wheelchair and getting on the floor with his cat. Leo crawled up next to him and spent the next hour taking care of the person who had rescued him on a cold day when he was a kitten and taken him into his human life.
Filed under Art, Photography
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
To Sonja
I had no choice
because the earth and sky
threw up so much
poetry,
no choice
but to accept
the High Tea Ceremony.
That night,
and all the day before,
the earth was cold
with wind-driven snow,
inhuman nurses
in an old hospital,
the father barred
from my room.
Finally your time came
in the early morning
with dark skies and gray clouds
like the snow clouds
over the mesas this morning
that came
with wind-driven snow
and ice crystals.
But in a moment,
the sun had shone
in the threatening blackness,
and a great arc of rainbow
bowed across the western
and northern skies,
making it all worthwhile.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
fourwindowspress 