Progress, seldom linear,
tosses me into unexpected decline, stranded and incapacitated.
My son with labour-hardened arms
leaps to my side, steadying me and I feel the fear in his caring grip
My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out, eyes filled with horror as my body crumples onto the bed.
My husband, my oak, seeks to comfort
his voice betraying the helplessness this futile predicament imposes.
Beloveds, I know that you see me
this dis-abled, non-functioning shell weakened and sickly, lying on this bed
Do not be deceived-
it is only an illusion – vessel temporarily fettered
I am in essence, as before
ambitions and desires intact hold this version of me
Sense the wholeness of my being
the woman I am yet to be – my spirit stands strong.
(My Spirit Stands Strong first appeared here August, 2015; edited for this version.
Image my own)
There is safety in apart-ment living;
would corral the little ones, declare responsibility, obligations as a mask for this self-banishing compulsion… except that I am lying prone, exposed – brains spilling onto concrete – shadows revealing the darkness of my condition, hopelessly locked in physical inertia.
I am an unwitting contributor to
scientific (and pseudo) probing: audacious autopsies pronouncing conclusive evidence of motives.
Too polite (and weakened) to deflect,
I submit, demonstrating complacency, sacrificing autonomy; fail to assert that it is I who is taking this life test.
And, by the way, am passing quite
adequately, which defies all rational diagnosis and prognosis, and serves to reassure me of ultimate success.
first appeared here June, 2016. Image my own.) Not Dead Yet
Wind carries Autumn’s song
and I am crawling out of a nightmare
Insides churning widdershins
thoughts grasping for a forward pull
Have been to the edge,
touched the volatile
Birdsong breaks solemnity
I catch a ray of light.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Last September, I was in hospital fighting through a life threatening condition. I penned this there. Image my own.)
a rough climb body fails to adjust focused as we are on destination
Sights a sepia blur
here approaching summit scree presents new danger
I vote we pause awhile
appreciate our labour breathe in colour for once.
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?
first appeared here in October 2017. I submit this edited version for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: Dear Legs champion. Image my own.)
One more challenge
already exhausted system accommodating further testing
(Written for my weekly challenge:
threes. I was diagnosed with Osteoporosis last year, but due to other, more urgent health problems, treatment was put on hold. Reviewing the situation, my doctor referred me to a specialist, who said I have severe bone loss in my hip and am prime for a break. After a fight with third party insurance, I am finally on board to start a bone building drug. Ah, life! Image my own.)
Pain no longer a threat
having found numbness –
from insistence of
this unchosen life.
(Image from personal collection)
She sits with me at breakfast,
follows me to the park,
hovers on the drive home,
celebrates when I lie down,
snuggles in with warming pad,
Not a companion
I would have chosen,
preferred the active,
athletic life, and yet
She complains with me
in the afternoon, invites
excuses during dinner,
grounds me in the evenings
and tosses me at bedtime
Not a companion
I would have chosen,
but at least I’ll grant her this –
she’s chronically devoted.
Winds picked up yesterday, gathering grey. Cold seeped in through the windowsills, and we set the furnace on high. Forecast for today is just above zero, even though we are in a tropical zone. Oh well, I decide, a nice spicy soup will warm our innards.
Seems my body mirrors the weather: health declining, forcing me to bedrest frequently. Have slept most the morning. In between, I check emails, the blog, and we speculate about what will happen next with Mother Nature. Soon, it will be time to venture home – a both welcome and sorrowful thought.
Confused winds blow cold,
winter reversing itself –
piquant soup simmers.
(It’s haibun night at the dVerse pub, hosted by Merril who challenges us to write about
March Madness. I am also linking up to Ragtag Community’s prompt: speculate and Fandango’s: health.)
Fragility blindsides –
I am woman.
Courageous, some say –
a sentiment beyond my reach
having not chosen this state.
Fragility is pervasive –
body reduced to miniscule fibers,
stretched, torn, bordering
Overwhelmed, mind obsesses –
will neither organize
nor let go…
If only I could let go…
I am weeping
Weeping from frustration –
immediate impossibility –
Unwilling to weep for totality of loss –
it is beyond me.
Illness is regarded
There is no equality for the disabled
stripped of busy-ness –
renders me as any other
A soul yearning for a meaningful existence.
Maybe illness is the great equalizer.
was first written in December of 2014, when I suffered from severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. It is revised here.) The Same, But Broken