It's already March and still
The window is rattling,
Chilling me to the bone
I woke up.
I have to be grateful ... for what?
I am a mere vessel ... in which my life resides.
I closed my eyes tightly
And heard the wind far in the distance.
7:00 in the morning, I had the bathroom assistance service
For the first time.
Ms. Muramoto comes every morning.
I didn't know there was such an occupation.
My eyes follow the TV screen.
Through my nose, I breath.
With my ears, I hear the noise of daily life
My mouth shapes words
My skin receives love
My five senses I am grateful for.
I want to move and move.
To walk
to stand up
And to take a step.
10:00 am, the weekend housekeeper came.
I sorted my bags today.
I will still use this one.
I will donate this one.
I sort these and those.
The home care equipments supplier came
to remove the ambulatory aid poles.
The poles are for me to hang on to when I walk.
I can't walk and I can't hang on to.
Just two weeks of life with poles.
It's just like my short life.
Just before 3:00 O'clock, Ms Grasshopper came.
At 3:00 O'clock my hero, Dr. Okabe, came for a house call.
When I talk with Dr. Okabe, I feel good about the life.
It is as if a new medicine is being produced in my body.
The vital medicine working through my body.
Dr. Okabe encouraged me to go to NY.
He pushed my back with a caring heart.
Kochi came with food.
Party for three
Kochi, Ms. Grasshopper and me.
Chinese food.
Ms. Grasshopper brought strawberries and tangerines for desert.
I'm blessed with kind people.
I want to return the kindness.
How can I do?
I talked with Ms. Grasshopper till midnight.
Are we going to be together for a long run? or just a short distance?
So far our idea for the documentary is the same.
It's almost identical.
We seem to be destined to meet.
Tension and feeling of closeness
Both are important.
The north wind stopped.
Ms. Grasshopper is sound asleep.
She must be tired.
She had to carry me to the right and the left,
Move me to the right and the left.
I got a mail from my ex-husband.
He wants to see me in New York
Just by ourselves.
We will talk, a lot, about
Our past and the future.
Poem by Maria Franki
Edited and translated by J. Ujiie
©2011
No comments:
Post a Comment