“Needles” by Cheryl Passanisi
The consequences often involve blood –
in my childhood needles were essential,
I was given a needle and taught embroidery
as a young child and would often poke myself
drawing blood, eliciting tears, or the needle dad
sterilized with a match to pick out my splinter
or all those fairy tales with needles and blood
or my grandmother’s knitting needles used to knit
us all sweaters, blankets for all babies.
My aunt and mom constantly threading the sewing
machine to make us clothes, sometimes matching –
an abundance of pine needles for decorating – or
The needle the doctor used to inject medicine
into my grandmother in our living room –
my mother saying: “My little girl is sick”
and he listened to my lungs then gave me
a jab of penicillin in my butt as I lay over the footstool
crying. In nursing school we didn’t practice
on oranges but practiced on each other,
my best friend inserted the needle into my deltoid and
freaked out because she hit bone (skinny then)
the flesh of me indifferent so she injected the saline –
When I wield my needles today I say to my patient:
“Take a deep breath” their breath beautiful as I inject
numbing medicine superficially then with a very large
needle to go deep deep hit bone then into the bone
for the biopsy. I have a patient who calls me
“Back stabber” and I ask: “A term of endearment right?” –
I insert a thin long needle into her spine, to myself
I whisper: “I don’t care if you believe in God, not sure
I believe in God” – Out loud I say “Be very still”
(echoing mother or aunt or grandmother as they would
pin an unfinished garment to me warning:
“Don’t move!”) and with each tenth of a milliliter
I inject the medicine praying:
God bless you God Bless you God Bless you
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Cheryl Passanisi Artist Statement:
As a nurse practitioner, poet and singer, mother, daughter and sister, I am moved into the creative process by the luminous, the ineffable, explosions just beneath the surface. I have sung in local opera chorus and musical theatre; I write poetry and published a book, “Geraniums from the Little Sophias of Unruly Wisdom” (from Finishing Line Press); and I am trained as a Nurse Practitioner. All of these elements contribute to my creativity: I often write about what it’s like to be back stage waiting for your entrance; being a vessel of sound; about the broken in body and spirit.
Because I am a singer and also work with patients with life threatening illness and feel compelled to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves and give voice, like a singer gives voice, to those whose voice may have been lost in the din of the greater world. Writing means finding new ways to present the contradictions in our complex world and make beauty out of ashes. I come from the realm of brokenness, need for healing and transformation. The fracture, the breaking, is where the poem, the song, the caring emerges.
