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WesCook
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Name: Wesley
Birthday: 5/3/1985
Gender: Male
Interests: the renovare movement, chrisitan ethics, christian spirituality, gospel theory, romantic literature, modern literature, american literature, critical theory, derrida, stanley hauerwas, make poverty history, oxfam, the fairtrade label, voiceless people
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  WeskeyCook1
Member Since:
1/2/2004
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| i firmly believe that to whom much is given, much is expected; those of us whom nursing has chosen in this century have much expected of us. technology is exploding. knowledge is harvested so quickly, sometimes quicker than it is sowed. people are becoming much sicker, much younger. although it is not ethically imperative that we use every piece of technology for every patient every time because death is very much a part of life, we are the ones who get to answer the questions: what do we do as western medicine advances and widens the gap between the well rich and the sick poor? when is the technology our slave, and when does it create slaves out of us? what do we do in a world where god seems so distant when we could so desperately benefit from some divine intervention? these are but a few questions, but these are the questions that have been placed in our collective lap. it is a daunting endeavor; many are scared by important questions that we must face. many will ignore their weight. but, we must resist this temptation. our job is to make sure we hang the questions up to consider throughout our career. we must leave them to air out in the breeze of experience, letting them rest for a while but returning to pin on an attempt or two at an answer for them. and we must begin this before standing up to go on with our career so not to dash these questions to the ground by the exuberant bouts of altruism that accompany our calling to nursing. however, if we are to be a generation who cares like never before, we must confront the questions head on as we humbly receive the gift of nursing. this gift enables us to care for the humanity to whom we have been entrusted the responsibility to touch and to heal each day. what a terrifying responsibility; what a wonderful opportunity.
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| new rings clank clumsily together
blue blood stagnates, hands now icy
hers feeling even icier held now by one still blood-animated hand, warm
like the tiny life held in his other warm hand
last breath birthed first breath
last breath birthed raw tears
first breath births also tears,
raw but stained, too, with joy, blue joy
crunched face, splayed-out fingers, cocooned in a womb of cotton
serene slumber—
a little like Bethlehem; inn bursting with travelers, crèche posing for crib,
much unlike Golgotha; mother—still blood-animated—holding blue-stagnate-blood-soaked son
held in father’s hand, in tandem with mortal mother,
this little life that inspired blood to pool blue
though guilty,knows not and will never know his crime
praying more like groaning
feeling so much less a father without his wife
feeling so much more a husband with his son
face, tear streamed; head, spinning; heart, crushed
abandoned, destroyed, cursed
skin; unfeeling of the Holy Spirit’s wings unfurling within
ears; unhearing of the words the Advocate assigns to his groan
eyes; hollowed by transience yet filled with nativity
lips; redefining kiss and intimacy
left wondering how he is blessed because he mourns
similar scene, miles away
add cataracts, crows feet, laugh canyons, and grown children
icing hands in hands, chilled by the years yes yet still lukewarm
last breaths birthing also tears
seasoned tears too stained with joy, blue joy, glisten,
filling the place where crows had landed, pouring into laugh canyons, drizzling
pinpoint warmth on icing hands, pinpoints of love baptizing last breaths
birthing new also tears
last smile, he winks
last breath, he breaths
icing hands now ice, warm hands letting go
feeling something less of a father without his wife
feeling something more of a husband with his children
embracing transience as holy wings comfort him
welcoming her new nativity
anticipating his own
praying too like groaning yet hearing the Spirit’s gloss
raw pain and palpable loss yet brimming with hope
failing, in-need-of-hearing-aide ears still hear holy whispers—
to mourn is to have loved
to have loved is to have lived
mourn on, embracing also tears
~Wesley Cook
24 November 2006
For my mother who has lost many and lived much.
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| the democrats have taken back the house...
we are about to take back the senate...
nancy pelosi is going to be the first woman speaker of the house...
hillary is secured...
rumsfeld has resigned...
bush looks shaken, totally taken aback...
corker won tennessee, but that is okay because we are about to take back the senate anyway...
now if we can just convince barak to run for president, barak or hillary or edwards, or barak and hillary, or barak and edwards or hillary and edwards....
barak just needs to run; he's a very distinguished member of the human community from illinois...
we can out do the redneck vote that still in the 21st century will "never vote for a n_____",
we may be getting somewhere in relationship to the rest of the world instead of floating around alone because no one is for us and our fearless leader has already told them that means they are against us...
i am a democrat, and this is a v-day...
i am a christian, perhaps this is a sort of v-day...
we must remind ourselves, neither democrats nor republicans are redemptive. christ alone is that, and he is neither...
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| what does it look like to hunger, to thirst for righteousness
my fount is dry; drought dry
arid, dirty, dusty; sandstorm dry
i hunger, i thirst; parched, ravenous
finally
living water!
dropping, pouring, gushing
down
but
bifurcated like a snake's tongue
split down the middle like the red sea
flooding all around my fount
irrigating a garden bursting with a harvest after but a drop of the flood
reanimating the stream winding through that garden to rapid strength intensity
flooding all around my fount but not in; near even but not in
quenching the thirst of fauna and flora alike
drenching the roots of a tree fraught with forbidden fruit
adorned with the sexy allure of sin wrapped in scaled skin, armed with fangs
winding around the fruit and through the leaves, seductively
like silk that flows and dances on curvy flesh
like skin stretched taught over striated muscle
i hunger
i thirst
parched
ravenous
i hunger and thirst, but not for righteousness
no. i hunger and thirst like Narcissus
for his food; for a feast of self as if it exists on its own accord
as a self-animated entity, as a deity, as my me deity
sin gets its fill, seeking Righteousness
quenched by blood that fills the cup now sweet not bitter;
satiated by flesh that now tastes of wheat and yeast
blood spilt for the bushel of forbidden fruit my flesh has consumed
flesh broken because the fruit’s poison taints my blood
evil is cunning; even it knows to hunger and thirst for Righteousness
it may seek to devour it rather than be filled by it
but
evil (not i) has developed an appetite for Righteousness nonetheless
now
pain
intense pain, piercing pain, localized pain, crushing pain, forcing-me-off-center pain
yet no wound, no juxtaposed perforations spilling blood, taking in poison
evil would not hurt this intensely
only truth aggrandizes pain and abates relief this intensely
no scar from fangs
now
soaked
from head to toe,
swimming now in water, in living water
drinking it in now; lapping it up like a deer at a stream
the bifurcated ethereal flood has rejoined itself
the red sea has met again
yet I am not crushed; a hurt i maybe, but not crushed
no
now
I hunger, I thirst; parched, ravenous
Not for nectar, not for fruit’s flesh
no
now
i hunger, i thirst; parched, ravenous
for Righteousness
for its blood; for its flesh
not to devour it
to be filled by it
~Wesley Cook
6 November 2006
For Ruth McDowell Cook and Patricia Phillips Magness who inspire me to read, who inspire me to write.
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| it suddenly occured to me today: i need the church. i know that sounds odd. after all, i am a former bible major. i understand the importance of community and the way the body of christ manifests itself as such. but, former is the operative word. this is the first semester without a bible/theology class. i have no academic thought provocation about jesus. i have no assignments to read the bible. for the first time, i need the church to challenge me and hold me accountable to the with god kind of life of which i have become so entangled.
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