Frank Cavano, a retired psychiatrist, writes poetry when moved by his own life experiences or by those of his patients. His poems and short stories speak to what he has learned about the healing process. They emphasize the importance of being there for those who are hurting, the importance of non-judgmental listening and the key role the Spirit can play in healing. You may reach him at: frankcavano@hargray.com
The Third Presence:
Another Dream
drowning, drowning in this dream she sought another
another dream absent of black roses and the twenty-five
hours the sixty-one minutes and the single second that
strangled hope dragging the tragic past into a future
now made of that past that blackened rose memory of
loss which had made of her life a Dali-Bosch painting.
clinging, clinging the barnacle of grief was her solitary
rudder through storms she hardly noticed except for the
rain pouring from swollen, reddened, handerkerchiefed
eyes, the rain still feeding the blackened rose memory
until finally, finally and as if by accident she brushed
into a gentle man whose strong arms held her fast in the
present and there the past receded just enough for her to
smile and with her heart paint for herself another dream.
Another Dream: Download Another Dream
another dream absent of black roses and the twenty-five
hours the sixty-one minutes and the single second that
strangled hope dragging the tragic past into a future
now made of that past that blackened rose memory of
loss which had made of her life a Dali-Bosch painting.
clinging, clinging the barnacle of grief was her solitary
rudder through storms she hardly noticed except for the
rain pouring from swollen, reddened, handerkerchiefed
eyes, the rain still feeding the blackened rose memory
until finally, finally and as if by accident she brushed
into a gentle man whose strong arms held her fast in the
present and there the past receded just enough for her to
smile and with her heart paint for herself another dream.
Another Dream: Download Another Dream
One week had now passed since the tragic loss of his daughter, Julie. Dressing for work this morning, Jonathan, a tear-stained automaton, moved from one task to another until he was “ready” to face his first day back at work since the accident. The steps on the stairway made no discernible sound as he pounded them on his way down to the first floor where he kissed Rachel quickly and headed for the garage. What words could possibly suffice in the face of her loss, their loss? Download Third Presence
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