I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Carol Delmonico’s reflection and poems For Living Close to Death and For Surgery.
Writing has been one of my early morning contemplative practices for years. This particular form came when my partner Kevin was diagnosed with cancer. As we navigated these new waters of illness and the medical system, a blessing would often come through my pen in the wee hours of the predawn morning, before he awoke. When he did rise, we’d sit in our usual morning spot at the east window, and I would read it to him. His eyes would be closed. I’d breathe into the silence, then he would open them and, with a gentle gaze, say, “Again, please.” I’d read it once more. Often, tears spilled from all four of our hazel eyes, and we’d sit in the pool for a bit before setting off into the day. Kevin died September 14th, 2024. We lived and breathed these blessings, held these words as trails to wander and as a form of prayer and contemplation about living and dying, and I still do.
For Living Close to Death
When the clock of time stops
And “all the time in the world”
Becomes the truth “we never know”.
Permanence is shattered.
Slow time begins.
Living with death on your shoulder invites
A deepening into experiencing life with the lid off.
Temporality a gentle nudge to unfetter your wings.
May slow time enrich and nurture and plump up every cell.
May embracing temporality allow you to live fully,
with every beat of your heart,
and unfurl your precious belonging to the vast universe that abounds.
May relational healing become the sweetest scented,
brightest moon of your days.
May the divinity of the tiny moments
of coming into presence
invoke a cascading symphony
of murmuring birdsong to lift up your soul.
May this be so.
For Surgery
It was a long night. Waiting.
Sleeping wakefulness. And now—
The light quaked and brightened in the pre-op room.
with your banter, laughter, and listening.
Hearts were touched. Smiles were evoked.
Laughter spilled. Memories dreamed in troubled times.
Gifts. Yours. Shine through the cracks.
They become the rolling landscape, the stirring sea,
And the star-spangled sky-scape of the now that is futuring as I write.
What we carry forward in the world of together-ness-ing,
in the wide web of the all that is,
are these precious jewels of connections.
May yours situate them in the burgeoning well-spring of your soul.
May yours untether you from anything that fools you.
May yours be swept up by the southerly winds
And like pink-hued fairy dust spreading—
loving hearts and healing minds break into blossom the world over.
May you know the beauty held in the simple gestures you offer up.
And may you come out the other side in love.
Carol Delmonico is a voracious reader who writes. A wonder-er who wanders through books and ponders deep questions. She is currently enamored with red poppies, finding their way out of the cracks in the asphalt. Her writing spills from her love and sorrow for our broken and beautiful world.
