We The Unseen

Edging towards gratitude
praying for salvation
It’s where we all want to be, right?

Why then is discernment
telling me to run –
Me, feeling claustrophobic
in crowds?

The chatter is discordant
seems we’re lowering our standards
mistaking temporary fails
as treachery

I try to stay hopeful
but my essence is parked
in invisibility, the clamour
of commercialism
condemning the likes of me
to back alleyways

Danger is everywhere
the lush slopes of ableism
 renders us shut-ins easy prey
progress whizzing by

I live in descent
drawn to and avoidant
of the lure of merging
always lagging

any vibrancy from my kind
perceived as garbage –
faith skips over the victim
drives us to hide
lesser beings are we

I take my chances,
dream of greener pastures
seeking the blessed promise

Joy, life has taught me,
always comes with a side of menace

(Image my own)

Silently, I Follow

Silently, I follow
novice heart absent

Who can maneuver
the breathless streams

attempt a spiritual viewpoint
while continuously overwhelmed?

Urgently in need of a breakthrough
I am done, outdated

Summer’s passage conceded
this soul requires triage

An experience of caring
that does not resemble a demand for more.

(Image my own)

Could It Be?

Walking away –
the only solution
I’ve ever excelled at…

…and yet, absence
does not obliterate
that which dwells within

I can pretend that I have nothing
to offer, but life and circumstance
require more of me…

…a challenge to exhume
the remains of my potential…
Will I be up to the task?

There is flattery in being looked up to –
the feeling that someone needs me –
but that is akin to temptation – an ego play

Could it be that acquired knowledge
has merit only when shared;
that we are all here to offer our piece;
that in releasing what I’ve learned,
I will find flow, feel in sync again,
restore my abilities and reignite
a passion for teaching?

Dare I hope?

( I first wrote this poem in 2017, three years after being bedridden with ME. Interesting to go back now and acknowledge that life still did have purpose for me. So grateful.

Image my own)

What Remains?

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.)

Labour

Extract the miracle
from the celebrated

Each story is lifeless
until told – its patterns

Stubborn, are innate –
We all crave renewal

I crave renewal
arms extended
fists unfolded

Believe in will –
the power to breathe life
into inert corners

Does not life support us?
Is not consciousness infinite?
and the divine patient?

Yesterday, I gave up
resigned myself to failure
(It’s a joke I play on myself)

This soul labours to find meaning
and I will breathe life into form
until quitting time finds me cleansed.

(Art my own)

Frost Bitten

Gnarly, these withered limbs,
this vessel more rigidity than flow,
Winter upon me – a permanent clouding

Sunnier days passed –
oh how vivid the imagination
when blue skies met green grass,
no hindrances

Old dreams hover, tethered to fences –
defences to camouflage vulnerability,
offences to keep my paths cleared

Find balance in isolation –
an old tree, past her prime

Would cut loose this precarious hold
on all things fantastical, but
fear the act a harbinger

So, I bide my days
in this frigid limbo,
and hold on.

(Originally appeared January, 2019. Image my own)

Teach Me

Teach me reverence;
I am losing ground

Children adulting,
mothering in a void

Teach me acceptance
disability’s waters flood

I am in the margins,
an afterthought…

I concede life changes
release control…

Passion begs an outlet;
I am worn…

And I am open…
Teach me.

(Teach Me first appeared here January 2020. Edited for this edition. Art my own)

M.E. (Anacrostic)

Memories escape me…
You’d think I’m older than I am…
Autonomic nervous system misfiring…
Lucky I have a sense of humour –
Grief would otherwise be smothering –
I remain optimistic
Counsel myself to find the lesson

Every day is a question mark
Needs ever changing
Can I walk without aids?
Endure a drive in the car?
Past my time without overexerting?
Healing requires restorative sleep
Although, it’s been years since I woke up refreshed –
Letting go of such expectations part of the learning –
Occasionally energy comes in bursts,
Mostly, it’s a trick…
Yesterday’s self no longer exists
Energy a quagmire…
Longing does not equal capability
Initiative encounters brick walls
Too often I overdo it
Insensitive to my own reality
Stubbornly unwilling to learn.

(Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is the disease I’ve lived with for 10 years now. I’ve collected a few more to keep it company along the way, and, of course, had one or two issues to start with. Anyway, I was recently inspired to write an acrostic poem. I’m sure there is more left to learn about living with these challenges. Image my own, as usual.)

We Are Mermaids

Severity of disease
defines degree of marginalization

Who will enter the darkness;
rub shoulders with despair?

Disability is entrancing
but doesn’t invite engagement

We are mythical creatures,
those of us whom fate has chosen

Passage aborted, movement
encumbered, we fantasize

about normalcy –
to be forgiven, just a day

That we might shatter
our barricades, and bound

carefree into the ocean waves –
like the mermaids that we are.

(Image my own, aided by AI)