Sleeping alone
with so much intrusion –
child born of good intentions
awash in a trail of barricades
I cope, cook up breezes, strike
wet ground – stuff myself to satiate
the onslaught, ground rapidly shifting –
Earth Mother exerting presence –
too stubborn, I turn away, look for
God but my cup keeps moving –
I am unreachable, charmed by
a broken tale, aimless, oppositional
overwhelmed – cry out but absence
holds no listeners – need adhesive
to fix this urgency – a peerless torrent –
if only I could simply these wounds
find a stopgap – emotion overflows,
exerts turmoil, sorrow replaying
sleep offers no repair, alone,
tormented by the issue at hand.
(Every so often, I revisit old poems and revise. Sleeping Alone first appeared here in December of 2017, when I was still in the throes of severe illness. I’ve come along way and it’s good to look back and see the progress. I am also linking this up to my weekly challenge, reaching.)
Beautiful poem Val and hope your recovery continues.
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Thanks Margaret. It does!
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❤️🙂
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I’m happy you are doing better 🙂 I really loved this line:
overwhelmed – cry out but absence
holds no listeners – need adhesive
💕
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Thanks, Christine.
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my cups keep moving tell a strong story V.J
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Thanks Gina.
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This is so powerful V.J.. I could feel the weight of your suffering through it. I’m so glad you’ve come such a long way. Blessings to you sweet friend!
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Thank you, Terri! You are certainly a blessing to me.
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And you to me dear friend!
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Oh my. Words full of such struggle. “Trail of barricades” – really drives it home. Glad you shared this again – yes, it is good to revisit and note progress has been made.
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Thank you. I know I need the reminders – progress is slow and I get impatient at times.
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Wonderful poem! Thanks for sharing!
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Thank you for reading and taking time to comment.
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wow! so powerful! vj that was awesome!
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Thank you so much, friend.
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I’m glad that there has been progress. This poem really breathes of the isolation you must feel at times having this illness.
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The first years were brutal. After a while, isolation becomes the norm, and re-communing becomes the struggle. Ah, life. Thanks Heather.
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Ah, life…definitely full of secret doors, we walk through one to be faced with another!
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You’ve got that right!
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