Routine

Depression monitors my movements
eyes me from across the road, waits

I struggle to define myself, here
at the margins of life, career lost

As teacher, days were outlined
bells, rubrics, and semesters

Now I must learn again, find
purpose in nothingness

Despair wants to move in, overwhelm
But I’m building my fences, regaining

routines – markers motivating
each day – a reason for being.

(This poem is a response to my weekly challenge: define but don’t reveal. Image my own.)

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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.

21 thoughts on “Routine

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