army of elements

Naked eyes’re powerless
for they are invisible,
smaller than dust, no less.

Creepy crawlers, void of tiny legs,
bursting from vein to vein
inside a mortal, muscled-keg.

A minuscule army of
Platinum, Fluorine, Arsenic, Boron
haunting for the invading “C”.

With a fatal glow, ‘nother option
is the clear-cut missile of
Cobalt-60 and Nickel-60.

Both weapons attack
with precision after trialled years,
Inside the lab intelligent minds

haunt periodic table for more recruits
in the race against the cursed
maker of crocodile-not tears.

Battles may end six-feet deep
or above, but all are won.

With a sliver of hope,
sunrise remains divine.

01.08.2019
©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash
Inspired by the book I finished last night, my first for 2020, Finding Chika: A Little Girl, an Earthquake, and the Making of a Family.
It is the story of a little Haitian girl named Chika diagnosed with a rare brain tumor. What a brave girl she was and still is.

Finding Chika: A Little Girl, an Earthquake, and the Making of a Family

I will be sharing more about this book in my future posts. 🙂
For dVerse Let’s get elemental!
Tonight, let’s get elementary. Let’s get back to the absolute basics of matter.
For Christmas this year, my son received a copy of Periodic Tales by Hugh Aldersley-Williams. It’s a book of stories about the different elements of the periodic table. I thought it might be fun to write some poems inspired by elements, and that’s what I want you to do tonight. You don’t need to have any knowledge of science to do this – we rub up against the elements every day.
When you stop and think about it, you realise there are so many elements surrounding us all the time. Maybe you’ll write about gold – the ultimate treasure? Or carbon, present in charcoal, coal, but also in diamonds? Maybe oxygen? Maybe you’ll fill a balloon with helium and let it go bobbing off; or give me a poem that’s a neon light in a dark night. Or maybe you’ll head off down into the lower layers of the table where the stranger elements like uranium and polonium lurk.

On Continuity

One…
two…
three…

what is there
for you to see?
Will there be
a bubbly bee—
bringer of
positivity,
yet with bite,
oh, so feisty.

Four…
five…
six…

what is there
for you to seek?
Is there a
bullet-size hole
where some light
will somehow leak—
to free the words
you cannot speak?

Seven…
eight…
nine…

Moving forward
is divine; giving up
is a landmine.
Once you step
on it— boom!



All is gone.

Your remnants
will then
go back to one.

08.03.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse MTB: Punctuation and enjambment in poetry.

Book Review: When Breath Becomes Air

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
Rating: ❤❤❤❤

What is it about: At the age of thirty-six, on the verge of completing a decade’s worth of training as a neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. One day he was a doctor treating the dying, and the next he was a patient struggling to live. And just like that, the future he and his wife had imagined evaporated. When Breath Becomes Air chronicles Kalanithi’s transformation from a naïve medical student “possessed,” as he wrote, “by the question of what, given that all organisms die, makes a virtuous and meaningful life” into a neurosurgeon at Stanford working in the brain, the most critical place for human identity, and finally into a patient and new father confronting his own mortality. 

What makes life worth living in the face of death? What do you do when the future, no longer a ladder toward your goals in life, flattens out into a perpetual present? What does it mean to have a child, to nurture a new life as another fades away? These are some of the questions Kalanithi wrestles with in this profoundly moving, exquisitely observed memoir. 

Paul Kalanithi died in March 2015, while working on this book, yet his words live on as a guide and a gift to us all. “I began to realize that coming face to face with my own mortality, in a sense, had changed nothing and everything,” he wrote. “Seven words from Samuel Beckett began to repeat in my head: ‘I can’t go on. I’ll go on.'” When Breath Becomes Air is an unforgettable, life-affirming reflection on the challenge of facing death and on the relationship between doctor and patient, from a brilliant writer who became both.

What I Love: Die with dignity.

It’s the clarion call of Paul Kalanithi’s words carried in his posthumously published book, When Breath Becomes Air.

I ended up sobbing, with eyes swollen but it is a worth it less-than 200-page journey.

Travelling inside the mind and heart and soul of a dying doctor, who had always searched for life’s meaning is enlightening and moving.

Reading about death has always woke up the mortal in me. This is maybe why I am so fond of Mitch Albom’s books. Books about dying breathe life back to my purpose. My life’s meaning.

Why am I here?
What am I doing?
What makes life worth living?

What I Don’t Love Much: While the ending made me cry, it’s moving. So I have nothing to not like about this book.

Wise Words:

“I can’t go on. I’ll go on.” 

“You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.” 

“Life wasn’t about avoiding suffering.” 

“Human knowledge is never contained in one person. It grows from the relationships we create between each other and the world, and still it is never complete.” 

“The main message of Jesus, I believed, is that mercy trumps justice every time.”

©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photos and Story Summary: Goodreads and Unsplash