Does illness have a voice, and if so; is it melancholy, or dark and dank, divulging deepest despair, or revealing a vileness of nature?
Discord creeps along my veins, disrupts muscles, systems failing under the oppression – “Stay strong,” friends counsel, cannot hear the gathering storm, feel the heaviness cloaking me.
I am not myself, but then; who am I? Is disease a mutation of the original sin – punishment for fatal sins, or redemption wrapped as trial – the whispers gain clarity – I am faltering…
(Discord originally appeared here May, 2019. Image my own. Living with chronic, often debilitating disease, is an ongoing challenge. There is no cure, no end in sight, and yet, we must go on. This is for my fellow warriors, wondering, some days, what it is all about.)
Yesterday I had to tell a young woman that the charity who were offering free flights out of Poland has discontinued the program. She shared that the countries around the Ukraine have also withdrawing help.
What could I say?
Many of us have stopped watching the news as the devastation is overwhelming. Television outlets now minimize reporting.
History repeats itself because humanity lacks the stamina to for the long haul. As many as 15 million Ukrainians will be displaced because of this war joining the 100 million displaced due to other world conflict.
I don’t have the answer to this dilemma; I’m just stating what I observe. Our collective priorities do not offer solutions. We fear losing our own status quo.