Inner Turmoil

Outlets, I have plenty,
for the excrement that accumulates
within these challenged walls

I soak and scrub, and
paint my cabinets yellow
hoping the optimism will sink in

will match the green of my smile
the expansiveness of my exterior
but the in-dwellers are provoked

question ego’s motivation
in selling off the residence
shaking their sedentary slumber

there was respite in disability
an imposed seclusion that calmed
the worries, invited complacency

who can rest in this motorized
uprooted reality, and what purpose
will evolve from the overflow

of emotions that flood, flashes
of insecurity, defying wisdom
threatening to cloud our sunshine?

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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.

13 thoughts on “Inner Turmoil”

  1. Love the expression “motorized uprooted reality” – that’s my current dream reality. Yikes!
    Your poem takes me in circles, concluding that uprooting is not without stress – adjustments to psyche as well as physical accommodations. It happened when I moved from Texas to Florida; then again when I moved back to Texas; then again when I partnered; and assuredly is ahead again when my partner retires in 2 years. I cross my fingers that adding “motorized” on top of retirement adjustment will not totally overwhelm. We ARE practicing the motorized part every summer … and so far loving it.
    Yellow cabinets in your RV??? Wow!

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  2. I’m still digesting but wow. After my first year of graduate school (in a dual master’s program working 4 jobs) I burnt out finally! Haha. I took one whole month off from life and painted my kitchen cabinets yellow for the same reasons echoed in your poem:I soak and scrub, and
paint my cabinets yellow
hoping the optimism will sink in- I also love the lines about the dichotomy of ‘disability’, how it buys us time and then what do we do with it? I’ve wrestled for years with how much anyone should push through emotional trauma vs being given the means to heal. I’m still not sure of the answer but I do love your poem.

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    1. Wow E! I struggled with this poem and almost trashed it – so glad it spoke to you. I think I’m still trying to sort through the words myself. Bless you for your enthusiastic support.

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