In the Weeds

Barrage of fears
plague each dream
render me useless

Invoke positivity, you say,
but the voices persist
intimate familiars

I set each fright adrift
hide among the weeds
pray for a moment’s reprieve.

(Image mine)

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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.

15 thoughts on “In the Weeds

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