Watery Fate

Unconsciousness –
like an iron anchor –
has dragged my lifeless
body, abandoned her
on the ocean floor

I am afraid to stir,
even a little, certain
that pieces of me will
break away drifting into
the unknown, irretrievable.

Somehow, I have learned
to breathe under water,
have memory of wholeness,
but am unglued, earthly
images floating past –

years spent in study,
hoping to be somebody
but like Dickinson, I am
nobody; only sediment
now, contemplating

girlhood dreams, memories
of parading in wedding white
mothers encouraging from
sidelines – I watch, sidelined
with muted amusement

so many dreams, now losses
the ocean’s flow a steady
stream of forgotten tears –
a watery graveyard for
shipwrecked vessels.

What fate awaits me
should immobility win –
will I disintegrate, particles
becoming algae, ever-reaching
tentacles of desperation?

Or, will I evolve into coral –
fragility guarded by venom,
attach myself to colonies –
life fragmented, now sustaining –
one existence traded for another?

Or, shall I gather forces – will
defying fate – propel myself
upwards, lungs and heart pumping,
mind commanding limbs, declare
myself substance, face another day?

(Image:  aquaviews.net)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda

I’d go back to school, continue post graduate work, rally the troops to get me there, scrounge
the fees, find someone to carry the books (I no longer have the strength) – undoubtedly miss a few sessions, get behind, feel frustration building, consult with the energetic youthful instructor, become brain locked when I cannot interpret the email address she writes down for me, confront the fact that transcribing the required reading assignment in nearly impossible (which means the work will likely never get completed in the allotted time period), and drop out.

I’d look after your young children, give you a break, but my hand is not steady and if I drop a cup it will break and what if it shatters where the children are playing – barefooted because I couldn’t rally the wherewithal to get them dressed without that much needed tea – and now the shards are a real threat, and the children are laughing and bouncing around, not heeding my warnings, thinking it’s all a joke, and I have lost control, needing to clean it up and manage the children, which I cannot do because multi-tasking is no longer within my realm of possibilities.

I’d visit my sister, the schizophrenic, who lives in a group home, and try to be supportive, but my mind is still reeling over the children, and other accumulating failures, and I know I’ve let everyone down, and quite frankly, her current state of neurosis seems so much less troublesome than mine, and I have nothing to say that would aide her other than I know what it feels like to be fucked up and exist outside the ‘norm’, and right now I just want to crawl back into my cell of isolation and breathe again – so have a good life.

I’d get a scooter, try to go for a ride on my own – be independent – but I’d likely choose the back roads to avoid the traffic and, not having accounted for inclement weather, would find the pace too fast and be forced into some small town where (with my luck) they’d be having their Christmas parade and I would be caught between crowds lining the street and marching bands and in a moment of panic would duck into the nearest opening – a family restaurant from which people are constantly coming and going  and where I’d realize that I just need to get home – and try to exit  just as someone (equally as pressed) is trying to enter, and having lost all vestiges of my normally polite self, I would refuse to back up, choosing instead to rage at the poor unsuspecting woman, who only needed a quick place to pee.

So, when you next ask me what I do with myself all day – and aren’t I bored – be assured that I am not lacking in suitable stimulation, do not need to take on added responsibility to give myself a sense of purpose, am incapable of volunteering with any degree of compassion, and have accepted my current state of dependency as the most appropriate given coping capabilities. I am, at present, unable to navigate life with any degree of normalcy, am content to struggle with my own limitations, putter at a speed below tortoise, bear the silence of solitude, and stay home.  I am not broken, in need of rescue, or lost.  I simply am.