I guess God is in the editing business, too.
The sonnet below describes my body trying to bleed out on October 19. It's couched in literary terms because it first appeared as a comment in Tamela Hancock Murray's blog post for the Steve Laube Agency this morning, on developmental and copy editing.
I don't know what to say or think. I can't even state with certainty as I write this if I am on Earth, or in Heaven.
See, I am surrounded by love.
And yesterday the plot was changed,
a literal bloodletting
in organs now so disarranged...
is this what's called Dev Editing?
And my grammar's diff'rent too,
words are spoken with more care,
respecting that which I've gone through;
am I still here, or am I There,
dead but called to higher days,
transition that I somehow missed
along the bleedout's paths and ways
that brought me with a happy twist
to blindly vault bright Heaven's fence,
and would I know the difference?
The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is TESTIMONY.
I don't have a testimony,
I just have what I've been through,
and I will not be a phony,
and tell the story straight for you.
I am bleeding, right inside,
and it does not want to cease,
but I have no need to hide,
'cause bubba, I'm at last at peace,
and can let the ol' world go,
while I journey on ahead,
and in my heart of hearts I know
that dying never will mean dead,
and that what you see me as gone
is me awake to Heaven's dawn.
Three minutes. Maybe that means something.
'Bye for now. Maybe I will see you in the morning.
Oh, and this... I try to counter the blood loss with strong red wine and pasta sauce.
During WW2, blood donors were advised to drink a lot of red wine, so that they might give a pint every week.
The pasta sauce is on my own hook. It's red. Deal with it.
I am fully aware that pancreatic cancer and alcohol do not, to put it mildly, go together. I'm just out of options.
Should be interesting to watch.
Music from the Alan Parsons Project, with Closer To Heaven.
Wherever I am, Sylvia's glad to be with me. She'll even bring the ice cream.