Weighted Down

Weighted down – I eat rocks
to anchor this restlessness –

unable to exit through any door,
trying to relocate self-assessment

to a sunnier place, contemplating
where I’d like to be; have checked

in, but no room is ready – shove it
all back underground – darkness

defining my horizons, my sister and I
meet here at the edge of denial, both

seeking calmer waters – she swims,
I crave a shower – we are haunted

in our sleep – shadows clouding our
dreams – projections of mermaid

possibilities, and electric blue skies;
I am gaining some ground, sifting

through basements, tossing old
ideals, cynically reminiscing, she

strokes through the debris of family
storms, ignores the rubbish polluting

her pool, maintains motion, while I
remain submerged, try to work out

a relationship with our father, long
since deceased, still present, find

solid ground – have opened the contents
of our stored horror, no choice but to carry

on, have been an actor in our staged
drama, no fame though to add acclaim,

only misguided endings, fragile audiences
and a sister who follows a different light.

(Image:  wallpapersblogspot.com)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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