I could cry to her like no other
               her bald head proud
               her hand waving briskly the magazine
               assauging another chemo-induced hot flash.

               With her my secret was safe
               being hers as well:
               the pain of a vulnerability uninvited and
               inescapable
               the wisdom hard won, yet elusive
               pains and gifts which cancer bestows, both
               with strings attached.

               She handed me a gift
               a plastic orange looking-glass with prismed pane.
               Now, she said
               the oranges, purples and greens
               are more ours;
               The birch trees sing for us,
               breathe into us
               not unnoticed.
               For half my life I have noticed too seldom, she said.
               From now on
               we see the world
               through
               Dragonfly eyes.

                             - Maria Kaefer, MSII