Is it selfish
this chosen solitude?
How I treasure silence,
stillness baiting my muse
And is it my calm
that attracts chaos?
The sorrow of others
landing on my doorstep
What if I rejected pleas,
locked out the troubles?
How long can I sustain
peace until need answers?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Onramp for freedom is just ahead
but all considered, I will not push
forward, am fragile, misinterpret
signs. Add to it isolation – who
can blame me….
Move! Move with the throngs!
Set your intentions, correct and
change direction – take a tangent
even – future is just around the
corner…..
Wears me out; I am shattered,
descending, would rejoin life’s
celebration, be a sister, but this
disability shows no compassion…
Couple with feminism; get ahold
of yourself, move forward – there
is no wrong time – be in support
of something; leap….
This reality is disparaging; in
the aftermath, I have no fight –
lightheadedness sabotaging –
an added foe….
Be independent. Righteousness
makes a good point of entrance…
Inability to motivate, emancipated,
confused on my own….
abandoning is not an option;
motor! Want to do the right thing;
come on, turn the page…
…too taxing, paralyzing to
show up, catch up with friends
clueless about ME/CFS….
…don’t you care that people
are being exploited, refuges
fleeing, can’t you feel the need…
impatience possesses; I am
beaten, am legless, spinning
keep pushing….harness strength…
..faint without a stance…
…defy fear…
… desperate…
Anticipation that life will one day recommence –
as if a curtain will open and there I’ll be, sitting
in the audience, hungrily waiting for the play –
has drawn me from my solitude, encouraged.
Have a friendly enough disposition, once graced
the boards myself – a lifetime ago now – confident
in my ability to engage, find kindred conversation,
may even make a friend or two, unless I disappear
again, slip back into the silence, abandon others
without a trace, grow restless, search for meaning
among the sheepish drones –a preponderance of
perpetual inactivity begetting obesity, choosing
comfort over confrontation – the curtain is drawn
the drama unfolding and we idol sitters, we fickle
non-committers watch agape, dumbfounded by
the acts, defy our better instincts, remain inert,
prefer to go back to sleep, but the dogged truths
of inhumanity are playing out on life’s stage, and
we are called to brush off the lull of anxious
politeness and dare to rise to anger, find passion
claim a role and be cast into the action, no time
for auditions, the script is unfolding, the ending
assured, unless we are willing to awaken, prod
the masses, and re-envision a less tragic ending.
(Image from camstage.com)
One Woman's Quest 