Progress – seldom linear –
tosses me into unexpected decline –
stranded and incapacitated.
My son – with labour-hardened strength
leaps to my side, steadying me
and I feel the fear in his caring grip.
My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out for me with horror-filled eyes
as my body crumples onto the bed.
My husband, my oak, seeks to comfort
his voice betraying the helplessness
this futile predicament imposes.
Beloveds, I know that you see me
this dis-abled, non-functioning shell
weakened and sickly, lying on this bed.
Do not be deceived – that is not me –
it is only an illusion –
a vessel – temporarily fettered.
I am, in essence, beside you –
ambitions and desires intact.
Feel me there, tall and proud.
Sense the wholeness of my being
remember me for the woman I am yet to be –
My spirit stands strong.