Alone

Dulac's illustration of the poem Alone

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life- was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view. 

--Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was depressed and probably an alcoholic and drug addict; not someone I look to for tips on how to live a happier life.  But I do like Edmund Dulac’s illustration of Poe's poem, Alone.  I can identify with that small person facing a big threat and struggling to keep control of his fear.

Six years ago leukemia came raging into our lives like a storm.  Six months ago it doubled back and we were caught in its path a second time.  In its wake, the storm left broken hope for eternal remission, financial ruin, weakened bodies, a sure knowledge that the future will be very different from what we had imagined, and an insecurity about our ability to face it.  How we do pick ourselves up and go on?  Roger and I are not heroic by any means, but we will go on, because we have to. 

About ten days ago, I asked our blog readers to send their descriptions of what a survivor looks like.  Tomorrow, I’ll share those observations.  You might be surprised to see some of your own qualities on the list.  We're all in this life alone, and we're in it together.  Hope springs eternal.

--Candi