a late poem… for my Knight/Charioteer

My Knight (tacking on even though National Poetry Month has passed)
By Angela Knight
A “knight in shining armor”
is who the stories say
will ride atop a charging steed
to chase my fears away.

But what if his armor loses shine,
is dented on its ride,
if he slips from his mount
as it falls out of stride?

No, my Knight can leave that weight behind,
a light coat will suffice –
a t-shirt, jeans, and dusty boots,
they need not be precise.

My Knight is just the perfect mix
of hero, friend and more-
this “Knight in faded denim”
is forever my amor.

Twenty-five years have come and gone,
we’ve meandered, hiked, and walked –
sometimes sat, sometimes tripped,
then we stopped to talk.

Decided feet could use some help,
Wheels could add support.
How lovely to join in this new way,
It could be our special sport.

So now my Knight can take my hand,
Then push with style and cheer…
You see, my Knight has now become
My Wheelchairioteer.

 

(Dedicated to my dearest Knight in Faded Denim… I love you, T.R.!!)

 

Follow this link to read about T.R.’s special encouragement to other “Wheelchair Charioteers – I look forward to watching this spread. I’m so proud of him!!

Poetry of Disability

As Disability, MS, and other similar Awareness Months draw to a close, I thought this would be an appropriate time to share a in a different way. Describing how MS really affects me can prove difficult, outside of a list of concrete symptoms. So how does one communicate this? How about poetry?

National Poetry Month begins on Monday, so it’s time for poeming and pondering.


“Scars” by Angela Knight

MS

Multiple Sclerosis.
Many Scars.

a Misbehaving System is what I call it.
You can call it what you wish.

Cells that should kill germs harm others instead, and what do they leave behind?
Scars.
What do they take away?
Energy. Control. Ability. Freedom.

“It’s all in your head,” you say.
And I agree.

With scars in my head,
I sometimes wonder what’s left.

Besides scars.

But then I hear an inner voice, one of assurance:

“Scars are not alone. When you look, you’ll find unexpected gifts:
The gift of Empathy to offer an ear to hear of invisible pain, filled with frustration and hard to see with the outer eye.
The gift of Peace beyond understanding, easier to feel when busy-ness is forced aside and stillness found.
The gift of Love you’ll feel as dear ones see through and beyond your scars, and the truest love, shown through one whose scars bring new life.”

MS

Multiple Sclerosis.
More than Scars.
That’s what I call it.
You can call it what you wish.

Celebrating 18 years!

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Funny how “National Poetry Month” didn’t result in more blog posts in April… April and May were beautiful, challenging, and exhausting. Why so? Our lovely twin daughters were completing their senior year in high school, which meant senior prom, final theater productions, band contest, AP tests, and final programs of many kinds. Of course, in the midst of this, MS has popped in from time to time… since late April, I’ve had great fun with “mandibular neuralgia,” where a nerve on my bottom left jaw (mandible) has decided to act up. But I can deal with this, just glad I don’t have current speaking engagements ;).

Graduation was last week, and by the time we returned home after our lovely open house celebration on Saturday, my “battery” level was quite low… it’s taken me a few days to “recharge,” but I feel like I’ve done that. Good thing, as today marks a huge celebration. Which celebration is that? Emily and Rachel’s eighteenth birthday!

In honor of this day, and as a final poetic post, I’ll share the story of their birth from the perspective of their mother. (This won second place in an area poetry competition, with the theme, “The Great Outdoors.”)


The Magic Door
by Angie Knight ( a true story – April-June 1999)

The time was close – six weeks to go,
spring was on its way.
Mommy waited patiently and
treasured every day.

Her favorite season brought new life
to tired, faded trees,
while she and Daddy took a walk
to feel the April breeze.

Soon they would come, two little ones
who waited now to see
the lovely world that would be home
for Babies A and B.

But then the doctor put the brakes
on time for work and play,
“Lay and rest, this will be best,
and soon will come their day.”

Six long weeks, they plodded by,
with Mommy longing for
a moment to just take a step
out through the wooden door.

She’d missed the daffodils, the scents
when spring was in the air,
the Great Outdoors were calling,
but she couldn’t visit there.

The day, it came, the babies joined
the world, first A then B.
They stretched and cried and lay in beds
for everyone to see.

Two days later, home they came
and all could hear them cry.
Eating helped and swings were nice,
but everything they’d try

to calm the smaller baby failed –
not song, not bounce or whirl.
The tired mom was wondering,
so holding Baby Girl,

she opened up that wooden door
and let the infant see
the outside world –
then something seemed to happen magic-ly.

Her eyes were new, but what she saw
brought silence to the place.
The spell she felt, the Great Outdoors,
the fresh, green quiet space.

In days to come, the parents found
the “magic door” still reigned:
quiet overtook the child
and peacefulness remained

each time they took a step outside
to venture out and see
“The Great Outdoors,” a view of life
that helped her to feel free.


Eighteen years later, not only do these young ladies sleep through the night, but they are amazing, intelligent, talented women who will be starting college in August. Ironically, the infant who loved stepping outside is now happiest when reading, making music, or interacting with technology inside. RachelRachel will be pursuing a degree in social studies education, with plans to eventually become a school librarian. I love watching her pursue story, literature, and truth – all with that special spark that is “Rachel.”

Emily, however, loves to spend time outside and DSC_0529frequently helps with the garden. She will will be working toward a degree in chemistry education. Having won the top award for science and for math in her high school class (yes, ahead of the fellows), Em is on her way to becoming the most engaging, artistic, and inspiring chemistry teacher we’ve ever seen. Her art blog may be viewed at www.emilyknight.org, and it will be wonderful to see where this talented twin’s life heads.

What a wonderful blessing and adventure these eighteen years have been – Happy Birthday, ladies!

dancing twins

April has arrived ~ it’s poetry time!

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April is here, and spring is in the air. The season of growth and life around us doesn’t only bring leaves and blooms, but it also inspires the poetry in each of us. Yes, April is National Poetry Month!

To encourage any who wish to craft verse in honor of this special month, I thought I’d share again a piece I penned a few years ago. The first seeds in our garden were just planted last week, and it was when I planted lettuce seven years ago that I wrote this piece. (It also hails back to my science teacher days in the mid-90s, when we planted seeds and charted their growth, measuring and marveling at the miracle of “tropisms.”

So, happy poem-ing to the poets among us!

 

Tropisms

By Angela Knight

 

Diminutive as a speck of dust, the black seed glistens on my palm.This onyx-tinged grain holds promise; it encapsulates life.

They say that if I bury this bit into the soil, a stem will soon point upward as roots burrow into the dirt.

“Magic?” I ask.
“No – science,” they say. “Tropisms: stems go up, roots come down. That’s just how it is.”
“But why? How do they know? Where do tropisms come from?”

As I ponder, I hear a silent reply:
“It is I who created the constellations, the oceans, the peaks, the valleys, the beating hearts, the seeds.
And I AM.”

So with awe more expansive than the waters of the world, I unite this tiny beacon of hope with the earth. Rains come: geotropisms tug down, phototropisms pull up, and the Creator smiles.
It is good.


Published in Parnassus, Feb. 2012


 

If you are in the Upland area this weekend, check out the Barton Rees Pogue Poetry and Arts Festival!

 

…I will share other poetry related to life’s “invisible issues” later in the month.