adversity – Page 20 – One Woman's Quest

I Need You

What is wrong with me –
too tired to argue, finding
argument in every utterance,
wanting peace, contrarily
lashing out without reason?

Is it the effort to untangle
my mind from the jungle
of sleep that leaves me
shattered, head-throbbing,
overly protective/defensive?

Your words are assailants –
bullets piercing my already
inflamed cerebrum – I recoil,
(this is not passivity) too spent
to quibble with your fallacies.

Maybe it’s frustration following
moments of equilibrium, in which
I aspire to normalcy, make plans,
set goals, am body-slammed
into reality, deflated once again.

I am building walls, shunning
interaction – heart aching, soul
despaired, I threaten congeniality,
fall apart – am sorry, and not
sorry – angry, righteously.

If I had words, I would praise
your loyalty, thank patience,
extol virtue – but I am too weary –
the formulation and expression
of ideas buried deeply within.

What is wrong with me is
the constraints of my current
disability – smothering sensibility,
crushing potential – dismembered
complacency, gutted propriety –

I am raw, festering, cringing
remnant, psychically flailing,
resisting daemonic, magnetic
impulse to disintegrate, surrender
to nothingness – cease to exist.

Forgo your platitudes, search
my eyes for truth – find the light
that flickers there – soft sorrow,
clutching onto hope – a lifeline –
and hold fast with your love.

Hide(me)away

I covet a place hidden
from view, tucked in
between the Highway
Of Life’s Disappointments
and the Edge of the World.

Access cloaked by years
of unkempt bramble, forks
left, just before the abrupt
right turn onto the Freeway
Of Destiny’s Next Calling.

A hermit’s cottage, quaint,
shrouded in the Forest of
Puppeteers, where one can
live a simple pantomime –
pretend strings don’t exist.

Perpetually perched between
bustle and abyss – a child’s game
of I can’t see you, you must not
be able to see me – I’d sleep,
a blissful state of detachment.

Moments of Glory

Went for a walk today –
pushed my chariot out the door,
faltered after it and set out –
a beautiful, sun-blessed day!

It was an act of independence –
defying shooting pain in shins,
a groaning hip, an obstinately
bent spine – Carpe Diem, said I.

Two houses, three, I smiled
at passersby – “Beautiful day!”
our celebratory chorus – three,
four houses, freedom mine.

Five, six – I could see the corner
shops – half a block away – why
I bought this house – everything
close – until fated out of reach.

Then I felt it – that indescribable
shift in my spine, a warning –
shut down imminent – retreat!
Confidence melted into panic.

Now steps became a shuffle,
each foot dragged forward,
back curving in on itself, will
on full throttle – get me home.

Two houses more – you can
do it – husband stands at door
telling me to take my time –
No! No! Time is running out!

I stumble inside – find comfort
in the familiarity of my bed
think about giving into tears
then remember – the sun’s rays

generously washing over pale
housebound skin, the smell of
autumn, just before the cold –
a rare mid-November warmth

and I smile – a victorious,
proud recognition of how,
Nature offered a rare gift –
and I, for once, partook of it.

A Friend, Indeed

Friend, you guide
my brain-fogged,
somnambulist limbs –
like a mindless automaton;
I follow, barely registering
movement – grateful for
deliverance into the
fullness of day.

Once, I abhorred
your consistency,
your stifling repetition,
found your dependency
mind-numbing, soulless –
suffocated in your lack
of notoriety – called you
unremarkable.

Undaunted, you persist,
morally unbiased, life-
affirming, ignoring
lethargy’s blood-
sucking hold, lifting
me, comforting,
habitually reliable,
blessed routine.

Juxtaposed

Muted shades of browns
and greys
define my black and white
existence
while succulent pink skies
explode in my dreams: neon
green vibrancy beckoning,
enticing – rude reminders.

My life is measured in
handfuls
one visit a week, two
outings
three phone calls, seven
minutes
for standing, fifteen for
sitting.
I dream in exponentials
multiples of numbers,
unlimited possibilities,
combinations, outcomes.

I live a stripped down
dirt floor
one room, structurally
unsound
solitude, boundary-less
instability
and dream of concrete
cities, institutions housing,
nurturing, protecting, life
with abundance – crowds.

How do I resign myself
to this juxtaposed reality,
fill in the missing gaps,
find sustenance in a void?

Acceptance is shattered,
faith
undermined, storm clouds
intensifying
threatening cyclones of
chaos
blacken the horizon, no
bottom
in sight to ease this soul.

Only in dreams will I find
my legs, run with mercy,
embrace freedom, and
know fullness of spirit,
fueling one more day
of survival,
until I am once again
whole.

Disability’s Rant

It’s not that I’m not open
to new perspectives –
I am aware of daylight
beyond these walls –
conscious that mine is
not the only viewpoint.

It’s just that the inflexibility
of this existence is unrelenting,
and I have come to see opposing arguments
in the bleak morbidity of aging –
am having doubts about the willingness
of skilled, principled, professionals
whose rigorous platforms require
energetic, sheltered, regard.

I am lacking confidence
in my ability to articulate –
sanitizing personal inkling,
disinfecting institutional
impotency.

What lesson have I signed up for?
How is it I’ve found myself,
mired in sterility,
shrouded in grey,
an unwitting student
in my own life?

Celebrate With Me, Love

We’ve set our sights on exotic locals;
imagined breathtaking shores; success
a sun-kissed cruise across the ocean:
effortless indulgence catering desires.

Cornered by adversity, we’ve sailed on,
tabled our dreams, re-examined goals,
argued over pronouncements; tensed,
forgone celebration, awaited reprieve.

You focus on the destination, denial
your fortress; whilst I take a stand,
grab an oar; proclaim merit in moments
fumble attempts to acquiesce – love you.

Sanctuary is not found in distraction:
uninvited invades: suffering assured;
ours is to embrace, appreciate, cherish
the gift of togetherness; joyous union.

Adrenal Spin

Death has visited us,
and subsequently,
visitations, and
a funeral.

Ours was a loss
long anticipated,
suffering relieved
by passing on.

Dutifully, I planned
to accompany Mom,
show support, and
represent our side.

Disability answers
to its own drum,
and this added stress
inflamed the beat.

Attempts at resting,
met fired adrenals –
locked on fight/flight
as my mind reeled

conjuring images
of confrontations,
inquisitions, and
judgments, then

raised unrelated
issues unresolved,
spinning webs,
speeding pulse

I spiraled into
a perpetual abyss
of wiry panic –
release unattainable.

Disappointment
my hangover,
as predictably,
I am a no show.

Who Speaks for The Silent?

Your voice, he said, it sounds…different…

Project your voice
I learned in drama;
speak to the back,
keep it strong;
don’t let it falter.

I had to replay your message several times…

Hold that note,
dig deep –
from the diaphragm;
sing from your belly.

Must be something wrong with the machine…

Demonstrate conviction
let your tone convey passion
stand tall, be confident
motivate your audience
my orator Dad told me.

I couldn’t make out your words…

Performance demands voice;
activism relies on voice;
change requires voice.

You sound so weak…
not yourself at all.

I am losing my voice,
but not my words,
I have so much to say,
who will say it for me?

In Wisdom Released

The officiousness of your interrogation –
tones of authority (masking ignorance) –
unnerve me, conjuring memories
of past violations; re-victimizing.

Proclaiming concern whilst fishing –
probing deviations; implying blame;
I am aroused to counterattack;
dis-abled, not dis-armed.

You think I chose this abduction,
wittingly willed myself crippled,
invited helplessness: laid down
and tolerated this life-invasion?

I find your tactics bullying, bordering
dubious, and revert to adolescence –
a surrogate adult, hyper-vigilant
in my self-protective backlash.

Your judgments are incredulous,
like a petulant child you protest
efforts to quiet unwanted advice
insist upon your righteousness.

If I was able to dislodge this ball
of stifled rage, I’d educate you on
the differences between support
and impertinence – but I am tired.

Strong-armed into submission,
I am left raw, newly battered,
maliciously wishing retribution,
cold-shouldering instead.

Is it the precariousness of current
suffering that has ruptured caring
or present reality that has shattered
the pretense of so-called friends?

Repercussions of confrontation,
(vows suddenly lacking promise)
weaken already tenuous success,
undermine self-actualization.

I only wish you’d understand that
although life has raped me, I am
stretching my wings, awakening,
cherishing, for once, self-worth.

In my new-found sensibility, I will
re-evaluate, and re-value meaning,
discern and select empowerment,
embrace (and reject) relationship.

Infirmity, you see, has advantages –
obliging new perception, discounting
material trickery, retiring innocence-
wisdom gained a just rebuttal.