Category Archives: personal growth

29–“Purpose?” from “Frazzle”

Looking Back While Moving Forward, Margaret Dubay Mikus Copyright 2014

The uterus as metaphor, as symbol, as well as the actual physical organ, is one ongoing thread in Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine. (As you will see, one of the later poems gave the book its title.) Many women “of a certain age” have issues with the winding down of their fertility, the cycling of their hormones. Some women grieve the loss, some celebrate the freedom, the ending of one life purpose and

“…continual re-birthing of…
my Life”

Poem 29, “Purpose?” in my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing. Listen here: https://youtu.be/o-olV3JyPAU

What is your story?

For more poem videos in the “Frazzle” series

27–“You Can Ask” from “Frazzle”

Years ago I had the idea for a series of poem-videos. In 2014 I finally posted four short videos (one was a song). I got tangled in all “my stuff.” You know what I mean: not being good enough, or not quite the right time, or ongoing life challenges, or needing to be perfect, or fearful of looking foolish, etc. And nothing more happened until this December.

I had an “aha” moment and realized I needed to read these poems aloud to give myself a positive focus and possibly also help others. My book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine, was meant to be “a lifeboat through hard times,” among other things. I knew from long experience that reading aloud was the most powerful way to deliver these poems. And so, 27 days ago, I began: starting at poem 1 and reading a poem a day (in chronological order).

“… No longer need to please
anyone but myself…”

From poem 27, “You Can Ask,” in my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing. Listen to the entire poem here: https://youtu.be/Vnc6ZyPUFGY

What holds you back from doing something helpful? Can you take one step?

For more poem videos from “Frazzle”

24–“Melting” from “Frazzle”

Datura Unopened, Copyright 2008 by MD Mikus,

From “Melting,” from my book, Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing.

“…This puddle of you,
this chrysalis,
this butterfly in the making,

in transition,
that familiar rough patch
neither here nor there….”

 

Although I wrote this poem in 2009, under quite different circumstances, I am again in that place right now. You?

Listen here to poem 24: https://youtu.be/ahlWyKgPyi4

For more poem videos from “Frazzle”

23–“Not Easy” from “Frazzle”

This poem seems written for these times.

We are in the throes of transformation. What we make of it, in co-creation, has yet to come. As Clarissa Pinkola Estes recently wrote: “We Were Made for These Times.” It is clear we must awaken and be alert, acting from our highest intention. Do not lose hope, transitions are always messy and chaotic. Hang in there and take good care. You are not alone.

“…if everything stayed perfectly fine,
would I still pay attention?”

Poem 23, “Not Easy,” from “Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine: Poems of Grace, Hope, and Healing.” Listen here: https://youtu.be/X9-uCvpLB38

For more poem videos from “Frazzle”

Scar Resolution?

Last fall, I read my poem, “Life Review of External Scars” at an open mic at the Geraldine R Dodge Poetry Festival at Waterloo Village, NJ. I prefaced it by saying that this poem was in some ways darkly funny, though the list of scars is long and might seem dreadful. Over the years, I have developed a very well-honed dark sense of humor, sometimes laughing at times that might seem inappropriate, a funeral for example. It’s just my way of coping with what sometimes seems to be an ongoing onslaught of hard times. It is of course true that many scars are internal, not visible to the eye. Scars can also be in a culture as well as a person. “Should We” was written a few days after my bilateral lumpectomies, when I was very specifically dealing with raw, new scars on a sensitive area (emotionally and physically). I often read it now as a plea for peace. “Now As I Am” addresses the idea of being at home in the body, or the longing to feel that way, a topic I return to over and over.

8/30/96

Should We

be known
by our scars
or by how far
we’ve come since
that wounding?

Could we
look at
where we are,
not
where we’ve been
and what’s been done?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 1996

4/28/08

Now As I Am

I opened the front door
to the home I once had
and began to unwrite
the unwritten rules.

Unvoiced expectations
so heavy a load
my shoulders were bowed.
Internalized judgment
passed down generations.
Rules of behavior
kept me glued to this spot
in fear of mistakes or imperfection,
shame, guilt or embarrassment.

And even one step forward
was too much to take
under such a burden.
Time to lay that burden down.
Thank you for any gifts
and ask forgiveness.

Forgiveness for the lack of trust,
forgiveness for forgetfulness,
forgiveness for any harsh words
or unkind thoughts or anything
less than generous.

When I look into clear blue eyes
in a mirror and see the pain there
and the laughter, the willingness,

I am encouraged,
I am nourished.

And I open the door
to a home I once had
and open the windows
to let in the light,

disperse the shadows,
freshen the air,
so that now, as I am,
I can come
back in and live there.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008

9/4/08

Life Review of External Scars

remembered or deduced, roughly in order

The belly button it could be argued,
though the cut part fell off.

The white slash so near the right eye where
grandma’s golden retriever got me at three.

Jumping in bed, hit Mom and Dad’s dresser corner
with my chin. No staples, but butterflies to minimize scarring.

Hard swing, playground first grade, gashed skull, first stitches.
Dr. Griffin, kind man, talked me through it.

The visible, but not noticeable, line across
the fleshy lower third of my left index finger,

cut when I tried to get at a box of brown sugar
with our largest sharp knife and the hard block

did not yield, the blade slicing through the box
and into me down to the bone. Parents out,

leaving us to baby-sit: I was second oldest.
Terrified. Cold compresses to stop the bleeding.

No stitches, butterflies when Mom got home or next morning.
Four deep Staph. infections: left thumb in eighth grade;

right side of nose bridge, left temple and cheek,
in the middle of high school when most self-conscious.

Inch mystery scar outside of right thigh.
Tonsils removed at nineteen.

Small dimple scar on tailbone from pilonidal cyst
the size of a small orange, painful to sit on, then burst open.

Two episiotomies, network of stretch marks
from carrying and delivering watermelon babies.

Thirty six? was it? “voluntary” stitches to remove
suspicious, questionable large moles…that proved of no consequence.

Two and three-inch fine lines from breast cancers removed,
now replaced by two eight-inch thin seams fading to white,

overlying scar tissue where breasts once were.
Three umbilical incisions repairing hernias plus

two half inch slits at bikini line, removing tubes and ovaries.
All the mosquito bites, bee stings, falls, sprains,

strains, scrapes, burns and bruises healed to invisible.
Each one a miracle.

No physical trace of measles, chicken pox, flu,
small pox vaccines, Tb tests, hard bumps,

swollen lips, teenaged breakouts,
however transiently embarrassing.

No discoloration or inflammation from adult poison ivy,
no convincing demonstration of the initial devastation.

All this not to whine, the pitiful victim,
but to take a moment to realize how far I’ve come…

still standing.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2008

“Should We” is from As Easy as Breathing (p.76) and is also read on the CD, Full Blooming: Selections from a Poetic Journal.