Category Archives: healing

James Lee Stanley at Folkstage

(St. Tim’s Coffeehouse)

It is understandable
these days and nights
to feel frustration
turn to anger, then rage
Feel grief, desperation, despair
Feel lost, helpless, depressed
anxious, hopeless, sleepless…
Which doesn’t help you.

Allow 10 minutes to wallow
a bit less or more
then do your primary job
of balancing…even on one toe.
Send out what you want to receive
what you want to give.
Breathe and breathe
feel your heart’s steady beat
miraculous.
Watch the dawn
rose tint the east horizon.
Profusion of spring daffodils bloom
and those little purple-blue, white-centered
flowers we never planted,
(I never remember their name)
but reliably they blanket the beds
bleeding into the spring grass
followed by the grape hyacinths.

We still don’t know the end of
even one story in this complexity.
We don’t know where this will lead.
We do know all this will pass
and what will we be left?
I adamantly refuse to turn into
someone I don’t like or recognize.
Don’t be pulled down
the dark path
fall off the crumbling cliff.
Or if you do, stop
brush off, choose again.
This I ask you
in the name of…

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2026

From my upcoming collection
Rippling Out From Folkstage

Remembering the First Day of Spring

Dorothy

It has come to my attention
that I have forgotten
the day of the year my sister died
even though it was the first day of spring
easy enough to remember.
And thus it passed by this year
without commemoration.
Upon reflection then
it seemed…perhaps…
necessary for survival.
How to get up out of
the dark, deep, dank well
of grief and choose
to live
without her.

Now, aware again
tears flowing again
but perhaps
more resilient now
than I was then
I can allow myself
to remember.

One thing I have to say
it may not have happened that way
an interpretive dance
from this precise distance
on this particular summer day.

I know I spoke of her sometimes
I know I cried sometimes.

I know I was recovering from
a total knee replacement
a big deal.

I know the country
has gone crazy and
the world is in disarray

the wars and starvation
the fires, droughts, storms and floods and
other diminutions of free-flowing energy.

When I asked her, nearing the end
what she was most afraid of, she said
that she would be forgotten

not knowing how deeply
and longingly and widely
she would be missed.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2025
 
From my poetic journal, 7/12/25

Listening to R. Carlos Nakai “Saguaro Sunset”

And inspired by Carney’s speech at DAVOS

The words have not been lining up
calling to me, insisting I catch them
as waves hit and waves hit
and we struggle to breathe
much less smile for minutes carefree
Who will be left at the end of this
what will be recognizable?
Why, just why?
As what was underneath is exposed
and what do we do with that?
Reveal who we are, must be
As we try to sleep
as we eat and comfort
remembering to hydrate
and breathe as deep as can
As we grieve some and resolve
to be kind. even something small
even once…then again
As we donate and write
and act as if…and wait…
for light, radiant
I am not blind to what is
I absorb as much or a bit more
And then I need an antidote
to the toxic, the tragic, the traumatic
Something to carry me through
believing in better
as a possibility
Can you imagine with me?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2026

From my poetic journal, 1/22/26

Watching Sunset, Fish Creek, Wis., (C) 2015 MDMikus

“The Coming Winter” by Krista Detor

“The Coming Winter” by Krista Detor

If we could be sure
this was the beginning
of the end of this mad dark
that we would not wake up
dreading another weary morning
wondering what new low
cruelty happened overnight
But we can’t know
at this point and just like
other black bottomless pit times
we have to keep breathing
maybe smile at someone
Find something today to be grateful for
Yes, it seems trite maybe
too small to make any difference
but this is how we will travel
to the other side—in baby steps
one foot, one breath
holding to some hope
like a balloon tied to a wrist
in a strong wind
but still holding on.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2025

From my poetic journal on 10/1/25

Really Bad News, She Said

My sister Dorothy has been gone several years now. Jan. 7 was her birthday, shared with our youngest brother (exactly a year apart) and our Grandma S. (He died very young, more than a decade ago.) Here is a poem I wrote after a phone call, one of many poems about her.

1/12/19

Really Bad News, She Said

Dorothy calls

Overload
from my latest
cancer diagnosis
and yours—and
you hold the record—
as we travel in parallel
down this potholed clinical road

Different details
the outcome equally
uncontrolled as we
guess which advice
to take and when
Trying to reason and
follow intuition

Some scars visible
some internal
as each day we struggle
What is this for?
Why am I still here?
As damage accumulates
and the rarer good days

even more a gift
One more conversation
speaking the same language
treasuring the time we have
Even occasional laughter
however dark or dry

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2019

From my poetic journal