Category: ME/ CFS

Pain

Pain.

I push against it
challenge it

A warrior intent
on proving
I am…

indestructible
unwilling
to flinch

Convinced
that denial
equals power

Except, it gnaws
at my edges
tears me down
bit by bit

Just as I prepare
to succumb…
clarity

…this is invitation

…surrender is a gift

…pain is passage

I let go
absolve myself
of the need….

(Pain first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II in June of 2016.
It has been edited here. Art my own.)

Need A Verb

Movement abandons
I grasp for something…
concrete…
…air to breathe
… am fast becoming
…sedimentary
…an object

Need a verb –
transitive –
to drive me –

The wind lifted her
The sun inspired her
The day healed her…

(Image my own)

Mermaid Dreams

Descending
into the mythical
entranced
spurred by
severity of
current challenge

Call it fantasy
but attempting
movement is
destroying
my passage

I am pulling,
shattering
this barricade
of a life; blue
progressing:
ocean bound.

(Mermaid Dreams was originally written in December of 2016, two years bedridden. Only in the dreamtime was I whole and capable of overcoming. Dreams are one thing I can talk about for thirty minutes without preparation: my challenge this week. Image my own.)

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.)

Who Speaks For The Silent?

Your voice, he said, it sounds…different…

Project your voice
I learned in theatre,
speak to the back
keep it strong
don’t 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
Dad, the orator, 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 much to say
who will say it for me?

(Who Will Speak for the Silent first appeared here in October, 2015. My voice was the first thing to go at the onset of ME. It would be years before I could speak and sustain a conversation again. In revisiting this poem, it occurs that it is still relevant for all those who do not have a voice, who cannot speak for themselves, so I resubmit here on behalf of Woman’s History Month and am linking up with my weekly challenge, dig. Image my own)

Dear Legs

I’ve been remiss
in expressing appreciation
all the years you’ve carried me –
stride confident, pace swift,
head turning grace –

We wobble now, you and I,
strength questionable
stilted soldiers forging against
a tide of contrary currents

Remember endless laps in the pool
prepping for provincial meets,
then dancing till the wee hours
getting down with disco?

We were champions, you and I
beauties taking on the world
leap-frogging in a race against
a undefinable foe, determined
that destiny held no limitation

I may not have expressed it
but each step is precious to me
and every time you hold me
upright, my gratitude’s sincere

There’s life yet to discover
and dreams still burn
Can you hear the drumming
will you join me in the dance?

(Dear Legs first appeared here in October 2017. I submit this edited version for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: champion. Image my own.)