The day I realized I was a fish

The quotation serving as the header for this blog was written by a former college roommate that is still my friend despite the fact that we were college roommates.  We took the whole "keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" thing a bit too literally--haha, just kidding friend!  I've included the full poem to put one of my favorite quotations into context (and to display my friend's talent).

The Evolution of Gills

If I were only skin-deep,

I could see waves of pain slip

past me -- invisible, radioactive --

and wonder, Would it do

any good? Or better that they

…focus…

like a magnifying glass

or telescope

to kill a cancer planted inside

And not you, dear one.

The secret of the gods of myth

is they made the cancer

a part of themselves, damming up

veins so nothing got back

to their hearts. Of course,

when they died, the aristocrats

followed, dropping powder wigs

for Isosceles smiles, calculated

to damn up men’s brains

so no thought should creep up

unplanned. But such bastards

to convention as we,

they could not have conceived.

Unfooled, you don a lunatic’s smile,

and I tuck an original voice

behind a bleary-eyed writer’s cliché.

Because, I know, given the chance

I would use my pen to assassinate--

for that’s how it might feel, though

hands holding my head underwater

present a solid case for self-defense.

Instead, I develop gills: a great

blasphemy to the hands that hold heads.

You know they cannot dam you up.

But brimstone in your eyes and the hard

line of your jaw seem to threaten

you just might do it yourself for spite.

But, it just isn’t over yet. The wilds in you

are everything they’ve sought to tame.

These they cannot have unless you consent.

So. If their cancer takes your lungs,

I say

grow gills, and head for the water. And wait.
                                        Amanda Dreher

There's so much that I love about this poem.  Disclaimer: my thoughts are my own, I do not know my friend's original intent behind these words.  I LOVE the use of the term cancer as an abstract concept.  "the cancer."  Feelings of outrage, injustice, sneaky ambition, hope, and resistance are stirred.  I am highly amused by the implication that even though "I would use my pen to assassinate" (due to the injustice and oppression that is compared to someone's attempts to cause you to drown, nonetheless) the result is described like a "well he started it!!" squabble.  In lieu of what would be a justified yet not realistic (for whatever reason) response---I adapt! "a great blasphemy to the hands that hold heads."  Outrageous!!
"You know they cannot dam you up."  Wow.  I could read this line over and over.  You are not fooled.  You see through the lies.  You are not one of the mass herd.  You get it.  You see the scam.  But....stupid but....it's hard.  It's hard knowing.  It's isolating.  It's an up hill battle.  It's against the stream.  It's easier to pretend not to care. "But it JUST isn't over yet."  So simple.  You have to consent to the cancer, so don't.  Adapt.
I'm still trying to decide what my "gills" are, what the cancer can be.  This past couple of years I have felt as though "the cancer" took my lungs.  I think that particular quotation is significant for me because writing=gills.  But, stupid but, after adapting for awhile, I decided to "dam" myself up just "for spite."  I think I've found my gills again.  Here's to many a blog to come!  What are your thoughts on this poem?