You started not to like me.
At first you thought: It’s not him.
It’s me. It’s the
Chemo, the kids, the stress, my weight.
Drugs ended. Hair grew back.
Boobs rebuilt. Life leveled as
Kids reached an easy age
And yet you
Couldn’t shake feeling that I’d
Turned on you.
One time I toured then
Didn’t come home.
Haven’t since.
I screamed and turned
To stone.
Your voice hurt my head.
Tin whining like the whistle a
Cracked car window makes
Flying on the highway.
It made me NUTS, effing NUTS and I told
The band and they were like ok Gord but
After awhile Rob said
Hey man, we get it. We HEAR YOU
No need to be
A broken record.
Rob has a good ear.
You thought I left but I
Was being pushed out–
My brain pregnant with
Blastoma and all its
Multi-hammers and mini-buzzsaws.
Bah! You had it in the bag, knew
The song and dance but
Me? I can’t remember
The names of
Our children or
Where I’m headed much less
The lyrics to the song
I wrote about you.
It’s not you.
It’s me.
“All things being balanced
It’s balanced and called balancing
Somewhere beyond everything
And it’s being balanced
Not for the sake of balance
But balancing between the throes of learning
And the entire thing
Entirely
Balancing”
“Stay” by The Tragically Hip
— Day 15, for G.D.
