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)
A soft-sided,
well worn,
briefcase
slouches
in a closet
One side agape,
a red lanyard
stuffed inside –
occupational identity
A row of black, brown, and gray pumps
line up beside it – a thin layer of dust
betraying idleness.
Silent, unblinking,
a television recedes
into the wall,
flanked on either side
by smiling images –
shadows of nostalgia.
Stacks of books
and journals
rumour
a scholarly mind.
The woman,
to whom all these trivialities
once had relevance
is no longer here.
She has been called to another purpose.
(Originally written in 2014, The Pilgrimage strives to help me understand the purpose behind losing all to illness. Image my own)
Ice has blown in overnight
tree branches coated,
sparkling…
… I search for a word
evasive, my fogged brain
having released so many
to the void…
“Varnish?” I ask aloud
“What’s that?” comes an answer
my son-in-law always helpful
spies my hand on butcher block
“Do you mean the finish on the wood?
That’s varnish, yes.”
“No.” I bite my trembling lip.
Indicate the scene outside the window,
the tree with its new shiny coat
“Like varnish!” he exclaims
“That works.”
“Nature’s varnish!” I proclaim
Creativity –
a sometimes bi-product
of a faulty mind.
(Image my own)
Unshakeable blue
I am ocean drawn
willing movement
suspended…
Fears meet me here
at the blackened shore
I want to believe
trust the light…
But legs no longer carry me
and heaven forbid the tide
should bring unruly waves –
drowning would be inevitable
So, I hug the shore
hold my breath
and dream of
a more forgiving blue.
(Inspired by Sadje’s challenge: What do you see? based on featured image.)
All the fading bits
detract – I am still alive,
passion asserting
(Living with chronic illness, the onset of Winter can be a very discouraging time. I write to remind myself that I am not that easy to deter. )
Walking away is 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: challenge me
to exhume remaining potential
Am I 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 wisdom acquired
has merit only when shared,
that we are all here to do our part,
that we are meant to engage?
Will I find a flow, rediscover
a synchronicity, reignite
a passion, and belong again?
Dare I hope?
(I first wrote this poem, two and half years into a debilitating illness that kept me bed bound. This version is edited, and I chose to share it now as a reminder not to give up. The answer to the questions posed is a resounding “Yes!” Image my own)
A window opened
I climbed through
forgetting…
October’s window
filled with promise,
just beyond the pane
Denial is a weasel
leads me towards
the edge…
Those madmen thoughts:
ambition, self-importance –
life has humbled me,
yet again…
(Poem first appeared on Twitter. Art my own)
Happenstance welcome,
dreamer that I am
Loyal to memories
and committed to progress
Professional ambitions unrequited,
I seek new avenues…
Failure a nag
provokes hesitation
Let me be!
I am independent!
This path is unique
and while I dwell
in contemplation of what ifs
I recognize my challenges,
the unreliability of illness,
expect no encores
Easier to focus
on what I can master
today.
(Watercolour mine)
Please forgive the dance,
but it is what I do –
one step forward,
then slide back,
shuffle and lose the rhythm
and start again.
Always reaching forward –
heart securely tucked in place –
but there is something embedded,
cellular – that invites the struggle
and so…I dance –
yesterday a warrior,
today the fool,
tomorrow only knows
multi-faceted,
roughly cut,
a gem
of an undefined hue,
I will always try again.
(Forgive the Dance first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, September 2019. Image my own)
I am visible, yet hiding –
balancing a vitality-blocking
disorder that renders me
inanimate, repulsive –
Who doesn’t flinch
in the face of deviancy?
Creativity obsesses
grasps hope that courage
will annihilate the beast,
that resourcefulness
is all it takes to overcome –
Hold on! it cries, nestled
deep within the grief –
Oh, you think you see me,
but I assure you, my friend,
you do not – I am rebel,
lost in isolation, vulnerability
fantasizing revolution –
Resolve trapped between
the exaggeration of infinite
possibility and the unremarkable
defence of compulsion to survive –
thrive even, if spirit was not
so aghast at current setbacks.
(Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 