disability · health · ME/ CFS · poetry · writing

What Scars Remain?

Should I escape these shackles,
manage to re-surface, swim
despite this weakened condition
against the currents of disability,
find myself once again on the
solid grounds of civilization;
will I be embraced with cheers
of victory, or slotted into some
backroom, reserved for the fallen,
spoken to in hushed tones,
forever handled at arms length,
an object to be feared?

And if I manage to fight these
bonds that for so long have
threatened to annihilate,
will I have the bravery to face
the calling that once defined me,
shake off the cobwebs of
disorientation, defy the
certainty of unpreparedness,
draw from the well of past
experiences and rise to
a new battle, proving the
validity of my return?

Or, with freedom, do I look
to opportunity, clear the slate
of former ambitions, rewrite
the pages of my destiny,
embrace an attitude of
rebirth, decide to relinquish
the sword, cut my losses
and redefine a new, gentler
way of being in the world,
less dependent on a system
which undoubtedly propelled
this descent in the first place?

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge.  Reena gives us a choice of prompts.  I have chosen  ‘disorientation’.  What Scars Remain was first written in August 2016.

creativity · Humour · poetry · writing

Blame It On the Moon

Lethargic, you say –
it is the moon’s withdrawal
that compels this wane –
the current that runs between
defying gravity, depleting –
no sense in fighting
such elemental flow –
total submission is key.

(Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge: moon; Ragtag Community’s: key; and Fandango’s: lethargic.)

 

art · creativity · life · nature · photography · poetry · spirituality · writing

Stirred

Unheralded,
an apparition
in white –
wings enveloping,
uplifting

soul cries,
voiceless,
powerless –
no pause
on perfection

she follows coastlines
while I travel roads,
fades from view

her shadow lingers,
wraps me in melancholy

one minute of rapture –
enough to make me mourn.

(Inspired by the sudden appearance of an egret while shooting this image.  Submitted for Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt:  roads, and Reena’s Exploration challenge:  one minute.)

creativity · dreams · poetry · writing

Close Call

In dreamtime, he comes,
my eclectic animus –
sometimes raven,
often tree,
he seduces –
first in conversation
then in arousing flesh –

Spellbound, witless,
my edges soften, melt,
and just at the moment
of near surrender,
lucidity knocks,
yanks me from watery
depths – sets me back
on conscious soil –

Anchored anew,
I shake off the lingering
tingle, brain abuzz,
reconnect with aged
limbs, mundane ills
and skedaddle.

(Catching up with Reena’s Exploration challenge – image provided; and linking up with Manic Mondays 3 Way Challenge – anchored; and Ragtag Community’s – skedaddle; and Fandango’s – eclectic.)