Should I escape these shackles –
manage to re-surface, swim
despite this weakened condition
against the currents of disability,
find myself once again on the
solid grounds of civilization –
will I be embraced with cheers
of victory, or slotted into some
back room, reserved for the fallen,
spoken to in hushed tones,
forever handled at arms length,
an object to be feared?
And, if I manage to fight these
bonds that for so long have
threatened to annihilate,
will I have the bravery to face
the calling that once defined me,
shake off the cobwebs of
disorientation, defy the
certainty of unpreparedness,
draw from the well of past
experiences and rise to
a new battle, proving the
validity of my return?
Or, with freedom, do I look
to opportunity, clear the slate
of former ambitions, rewrite
the pages of my destiny,
embrace an attitude of
rebirth, decide to relinquish
the sword, cut my losses
and redefine a new, gentler
way of being in the world,
less dependent on a system
which undoubtedly propelled
this descent in the first place?
(My art, entitled Abandoned Forest, acrylic. This poem first appeared in 2016, when after two years bedridden with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, I pondered what would become of me. As part of a support group now, I recognize this same struggle in others plagued by chronic illness. Personally, I eventually found my answer in the third stanza.)
One Woman's Quest 