Confusion, Tears, and Dancing with a Dinosaur

Phew. I haven't written like this a awhile. Raw, honest, unafraid. I love writing poetry. I love hiding behind my words, leaving it up to you to figure out what I mean.
I am confused.
I've cried more in the past week than I have since diagnosis.
Weird, because I don't cry. (Sometimes I joke that cancer used up all my tears, or maybe it's the meds that suppress my emotions. I don't cry.)
I saw a show last Thursday titled Sarah and the Dinosaur: A play about a girl, her cancer, and a dinosaur.
Cancer used up all my tears? Ha.
Nope. I cried for about ten (?) minutes after the show ended. It was honest, and real. I related to almost every scene. It was uncanny how similar our experiences were, or maybe it's just a survivor thing?
The cryptic phone message? Check.
Quitting your job? Uh-huh.
Being one of the few who doesn't lose their hair and "look sick"? Yup.
I could go on. In fact, I will.
There are the best intentioned people who try and try to heal you. A fridge full of lettuce, weird diets. Your mom having to do all the gross stuff. Bedpans, bathing, it's like you're an infant again. Except this time, you can talk, and have been independent for the past 18 years of your life.
In the last scene, Sarah dances with her dinosaur. She's realized he's never going to leave. She has to learn to live with it.
Sometimes I forget it happened, then in movement, I'll point my toe, and my scar rudely reminds me, "Hey, Esther, your last surgery was in June!"
Can I say this? Me, the tower of hope and optimism, (well, sometimes) can I say that I'm scared?
Frightened that Cancer might get hungry again, and find my cells tasty.
Again.
Sometimes I wonder if where I am right now is the eye of a storm, and I'm holding my breath for. . .
Don't think about it.
These are the things I didn't know, until I sat down and wrote.
I'm confused.
Why did the play make me cry?
Am I wallowing?
Shouldn't I be okay by now?
Why am I still talking about this?
I recorded an album, for crying out loud. Isn't that therapy enough?
Why can't I put this all behind?
Why did the play make me cry?
I cried, because folks, I'm dancing with a dinosaur.
Or, as I put it in a post last year: There Was No Funeral
Yes, I acknowledged that things were different, but then I released an EP, had surgery, performed in two Winnipeg Fringe shows, and moved to Rosebud.
I was determined to prove myself, to show that I had overcome huge obstacles, and could do the program.
I talk about it; everyone asks how you came to Rosebud, The staff knew. I've been waiting three years to get here. Everyone knows I had cancer.
But I left the theatre last week burning, aching to tell my story. To be asked how the play impacted me. I wanted to explain that what we witnessed on stage had also taken place in my living room.
I've told my story on radio, TV, and in newspapers. But they only want sound bytes, the encouraging stuff, so that's what I focused on.
Have I told you about the ugly parts?
Read back over my blog, and you'll see them.
When can I talk about it? I'm afraid of my story, in it's entirety, being too much to handle. I use humour to diffuse the truth.
Nobody really wants to know all that stuff.
But, what can I do with all the memories that have been stirred up?
As my acting instructors would say, bring that into the room with you.
How?
Now I'm rambling. I don't have answers. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and wonder what the hell I was thinking to post this. But, I've been challenged lately to be honest, so here it is, the dis-jointed sentences, confused, tired, ugly-honest.
Me.
 

Untitled

In your darkness, how can I help?
I wish is was as simple as a turned switch
But I know the night, and it is not for me to fix
What can I do?
The path you walk, I cannot light
But I can come alongside
Take your hand
Whisper words of love that heal
I will not force you faster towards the end
I may be able to see
But for now
I know you can only
Lift and set down your feet as you go
I will not leave, though I know there are things
You must fight on your own
I cannot make you whole
But I will stand here, until my body
Is cold
Strengthened by the Love who will not let me go
I give myself to restore

Everything Has Changed

I'm processing through poetry more and more, so here is my latest offering:

I think I am a wandering minstrel
Spinning my song as I go
There and back again
Un-tethered, I am free to travel
Adaptable, I easily flow as
Air: light, wild, unpredictable
Earth: rooted in truth
I am reaching balance
Becoming healthier, more and more
I feel it, from the inner clockwork
To the outer shell
The cracks repair
The time has arrived
Say goodbye to former fears
Dawn has come, day begun
Wings have grown
The time has come to fly
There will be no glancing back, reaching for things past
They satisfy no longer
"You are ready, go out, you can make it on your own," is uttered
The choice is made, the course is set
The time for owning has begun
Who I am
I am me
Changing constantly
Messy, friendly, entertaining, passionate, God-breathed
Artist

Shaped

Stories flowing over me

Water slowly eroding

Shaping, creating who I am

How can I resist the constant pressure?

How do I shape what has shaped me?

I am water too

I erode you

Do I make you jagged and broken

Or soften the edges others have made?

I am both

Silt

Impure, and rough

I cut through rock

Reaching your heart

What do I do when I get there?

Movement

Moving is losing the voice that tells me I can't in a joyous flow of steps
It doesn't have to make sense
There are no thoughts, only pulsing impulses
I'm giving myself to them, letting them rip through me
Spinning, pounding, slipping, moving, slowly, quickly
The driving need to find the next place to be my sanctuary
Escape, oasis, my reality
Away from fear and doubts, cries of all that's lost
My pocket of peace, where all I have to do is be

Freefall

On stage
Looking in your eyes, it seems I'm
Hearing these words for the first time
My mind spins with how to respond
My mouth is moving, saying my next line
This is a new sensation, I'm not sure what's coming
Yet I know this rhythm, for we've been practising
How could each carefully crafted moment hold a new discovery?
Nothing is default
This is what it is to freefall

Thoughts after acting class today. What it's like to be in a scene so deeply, that you don't know what's coming next, yet you do. It's hard to describe. It's freefall.    

Shifting

The world smears and blurs and bends.
The morning mist drifts across the road as I walk to class.
My backpack is loaded with books, my mind full with everything I'm doing today.
I trudge on, into the lifting fog.
I hear the voices of my classmates as we travel to our next class.
I know the sun is shining beyond the fog. I blink, and a ray spears through, illuminating the hoar frost on the grass. The sunbeam reflects, and the blade of grass is transformed into an icy spear, the tip burning light. I pause, and let myself absorb the sight. It lasts only a few seconds, but I continue on my way with a sense of peace and awe. Yes, life as a Rosebud student is hectic. Yes, I feel overwhelmed a large percentage of the time.
But oh, yes, there are these precious moments where I stop and see the breathtaking beauty that makes my heart hurt, in the best way.       

Shifting

I wouldn't have noticed that two months ago

Awareness

I'm becoming attuned

Beauty

Its there

Surrounding

How many of these moments go unseen?