Dis-abled Self

A wounded creature, I circle the pack;
A laggard seeking inroads, missing cues;
A social wanna be without the smack –
This fogged state a waning of my hues.

My path a heartless road through blinding snow,
And I without a map or coat, alone –
To ask for help, a degradation – No!
Tis arrogance and stubbornness I own.

I’ll bide my time on sidelines crying ill,
Bemoan this wretched fate and limp along;
Til self-indulgence wears thin, then I will
By humble act, declare I do belong.

And in the end no consequence is worse:
Than mulish woman bearing no self-worth.

(This modest attempt at iambic pentameter is brought to you by the promptings of Frank at dVerse.  Hope it wasn’t too painful.)

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VJ

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.

34 thoughts on “Dis-abled Self”

  7. Our weaknesses tend to make us strong in other ways and circling the pack gives us a different perspective. Many of us become writers – sometimes out of pure stubbornness – and that’s perfect; the world needs writers to keep the balance, something I often lack ;). I love the lines:
    ‘My path a heartless road through blinding snow,
    And I without a map or coat, alone…’
    and
    ‘Bemoan this wretched fate and limp along;
    Til self-indulgence wears thin, then I will
    By humble act, declare I do belong’.

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    1. Oh dear, Sarah. It was tongue-in-cheek, but there is so much frustration in being fully dependent on others, with a disease the doesn’t loosen its grip. Just moaning, lol.

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      1. I can identify with that, i went through some painful physical limitations and asking for help did not come easy for me so I suffered in silence rather than seen to be weak – very good writing VJ

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  15. Rhyme always makes me silly too; nice job though on the prompt. You join Bjorn & Kim in the sonnet club tonight; cool. Being disabled, I remind myself that when you striike the D’s, you’re left with is able.

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