Buried alive
by illness’ onset
only hope for escape
tunnel whose guilt-lined
walls oozed mucous
of neglect, sorrow
so raw, shredded
faith – no light
just a dull
pulse
screaming –
I am alive.
(Chronic illness is a game changer. No amount of ambition can turn the tide. One is left to face the onslaught of that which has been oppressed or skipped over. I wrote this poem early in my journey with ME. Amazingly, no matter what, spirit still clings to life. Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 