it wasn’t long after he left my body started making stones
(‘uric acid deposits’ they called them)
what sticks is he wasn’t there
(in my memories of that time)
in the emergency room visits
(there were three)
or the frequent rides over the new london bridge
(to dr. gupta’s office)
i never saw him reach for the milk beside the shameful brown canisters
(over sized & kept cold in the fridge)
the stone removal in ’95 < the lithotripsy in ‘02
all these tiny sharp pebbles
stuck & traveling: my ureter(s), my bladder, urethra
they would pass or stay & come back or never leave
(some are in my body even now, even still)
TCM draws an easy line
between the kidneys {body} & our fear {emotion}
i can remember my fears before he left
(but i sometimes forget)
what had me so afraid after?
why is it my kidneys
(and not my heart)
that turn out
so
much
stone
?
about this poem
i shared this poem with my writing group last week and one of the things i heard most was “i’ve never read (heard) a poem about kidney stones!” (smiling emoji here :)) perhaps a little unusual, this is one of the countless reasons i seek refuge and find solace in poetry.. you can bring yourself, your pain, your thoughts , your tenderness to it and it asks nothing in return, becomes but a container for all your broken bits & pieces.. what a gift! thanks for reading ~ and you should know while i’ve passed too many kidney stones to count since i was a girl, it was never their passing that was the most painful part for me but rather when they would become stuck or began rattling around my insides 😉 xo, s.
santos scribes 
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