We are seekers,
wholeness our quest –
turning to experts for answers,
praying for a cure
fearful of the unknown;
prefer following over charting
a new course – passengers
positioning ourselves for salvation
grasping at clues, losing
ground, plummeting –
bottom, they say, is where
the healing begins.
We hitch ourselves to hope –
know struggle as a constant –
onboard, compliant, worship
professional advice, motivated;
caregivers are our pastures,
we overlook inconsistencies –
dare not doubt – climb
over obstacles, persevere
through red tape, and
when disease persists and
compassions run dry,
we resign ourselves
to a new course,
will embrace any madness
believe that a new set of eyes
just might turn our lives around.
(Image: betablog.org)
I feel you wrote that poem for me. I was a teacher but MS blocked my ability to teach. I love your images.
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Thanks, Ann. I am sorry for what you are going through. I was also a teacher forced to quit because of illness. So hard to give up something we were so passionate about. Thanks for commenting.
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