The Same, But Broken

Fragility blindsides –
I am woman.

Courageous, some say –
a sentiment beyond my reach
having not chosen this state.

Fragility is pervasive –
body reduced to miniscule fibers,
stretched, torn, bordering
on broken.

Overwhelmed, mind obsesses –
will neither organize
nor let go…

If only I could let go…

I am weeping
and not

Weeping from frustration –
immediate impossibility –

Unwilling to weep for totality of loss –
it is beyond me.

Illness is regarded
with disgust,

There is no equality for the disabled

And, yet…

Rawness –
stripped of busy-ness –
renders me as any other

A soul yearning for a meaningful existence.

Maybe illness is the great equalizer.

(The Same, But Broken was first written in December of 2014, when I suffered from severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.  It is revised here.)


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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.

4 thoughts on “The Same, But Broken”

  1. This feels bittersweet to read, because I see strength in your words and reflection, despite fragility of body and health. It’s fascinating to be able to see what you wrote in 2014 to compare to your writing and views and experiences now, I’m glad you keep your older pieces! 🙂

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  2. Illness is an usher of sorts … leading/pushing us toward certain experiences and away from others. One of many ushers we cannot wish away. I try to trust a “greater good” but it is impossible to smile sweetly at certain ushers! I like your strength and fragility emphasis.

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