Happy ReBirthday to Me

I'm officially one year old today. It's called a rebirthday by transplantees because it marks the day your new life began. One year ago today, Day Zero, was the day I got pulled from the wreckage of my old bone marrow, and it was the first day of the rest of my life. So March will always be my birthday. But May 29th is my Rebirthday. And the gratitude I feel for being here to celebrate it, not to mention the May birthdays of the two people I love most in all the world, simply defies description.

Crossroads
by Joyce Sutphen


The second half of my life will be black

to the white rind of the old and fading moon.

The second half of my life will be water

over the cracked floor of these desert years.

I will land on my feet this time,

knowing at least two languages and who

my friends are. I will dress for the

occasion, and my hair shall be

whatever color I please.

Everyone will go on celebrating the old

birthday, counting the years as usual,

but I will count myself new from this

inception, this imprint of my own desire.



The second half of my life will be swift,

past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,

asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.

The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,

fingers shifting through fine sands,

arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.

There will be new dreams every night,

and the drapes will never be closed.

I will toss my string of keys into a deep

well and old letters into the grate.



The second half of my life will be ice

breaking up on the river, rain

soaking the fields, a hand

held out, a fire,

and smoke going

upward, always up.