Aurora Lewis


There is a scar etched beneath my belly
Put there when my womb was removed,
A partial hysterectomy to detach a tumor
Draining my energy, sucking life from me
Ovaries pumping hormones to an empty place.
Most days I forget that it is there until my hand
Casually brushes against the keloid flesh,
This scar that ceased my ability to give birth
To another child, skin cut almost like a smiley
Face's unrelenting grin as if declaring I win

Then there is another scar wandering along the
Side of my hairline from graying widow's peak to
The end of my right ear, a paralyzed sidewinder,
Delicately cut to stop the blood that seeped
Into my spine, accompanied by a metal clamp
To hold the severed veins in my brain in tack
My fingers sooth the reddish brown bruise
No one sees but me. Where bone was crushed
By a surgeon's saw releasing me from pain

Faint indentations and fragments of healed
Over tissue sequestered beneath my scalp
This scar, the discarded calling card of an
Erupted aneurysm sent to pull me to a place
Where I was not ready to go and although I can
No longer usher life though the canal of change
And the severed veins within my brain are locked
In place by metal, now a permanent part of me
I rejoice in both as I am life, as evidenced by my scars

* * *


Nights filled with prickling pain
Pecking at my feet and legs

Like rabid chickens running amok
Feeding off the soles of my feet

Working their way up my legs
Nourished from sugar in my veins

My lack of insulin a green light
Coaxing chickens gone mad

Always pecking, as I toss and turn
Flexing my toes without relief

The sting of scorpions zapping
My ankles with tiny electronic bolts

Each night invading my limbs
Stopping short of my knees

Occasionally biting me on the thigh
Moving though, this traveling snake

Named Type II with fire ants nibbling
At my fingertips those carbs I overate

357, the meter lies, my blood sugar
Can't be that high, still my aching feet

Testify that I am out of control
Lessening my chances of growing old

I dreamt I danced wearing a pair
Of pink leather cowgirl boots

But my feet were gone
Lost to a Snickers bar

Devoured secretly in the
Quite hours of the night

Aurora Lewis is a woman in her late 50's, a diabetic, and a survivor of an erupted brain aneurysm, which occurred in 2004. Once recovered, her creative energy was awakened and she began writing poetry and short stories that explore and celebrate living.