adversity · poetry · writing


Fickle, I am –
life cycles catching me
unaware, unstable –

Lessons I appreciate
opportunities to expand

But this isolation
this carrel-based living
limits perspective

Still, I try.

adversity · aging · creativity · life · poetry · writing


Purpose –
much coveted
despair-driven –
has returned.

Energy –
to proceed –

Willingness –
once vibrant
now constrained –

Chasms –
loss created
unparalleled –
require bridges.

Purpose –
discovery born
enthusiastic –

(Resilience first appeared here in October, 2018.  I submit a slightly revised edition here for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: resilience.)

adversity · disability · life · ME/ CFS · poetry

Spirit Stands Strong

Progress – seldom linear –
tosses me into unexpected decline –
stranded and incapacitated.

My son – with labour-hardened strength
leaps to my side, steadying me
and I feel the fear in his caring grip.

My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out for me with horror-filled eyes
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 – that is not me –
it is only an illusion –
a vessel – temporarily fettered.

I am, in essence, beside you –
ambitions and desires intact.
Feel me there, tall and proud.

Sense the wholeness of my being
remember me for the woman I am yet to be –
My spirit stands strong.

(I first wrote this poem in August of 2015, when efforts to sit up and visit with friends caused a collapse.  I wrote it as reassurance for my family that the woman they knew was still strong.  I post here now as a reminder to myself – of how far I have come, and how strong my spirit remains.)

disability · health · life · poetry · recovery

In Desperation

We are seekers,
wholeness our quest –
turning to experts for answers,
praying for a cure

fearful of the unknown;
prefer following over charting
a new course – passengers
positioning ourselves for salvation

grasping at clues, losing
ground, plummeting –
bottom, they say, is where
the healing begins.

We hitch ourselves to hope –
know struggle as a constant –
onboard, compliant, worship
professional advice, motivated;

caregivers are our pastures,
we overlook inconsistencies –
dare not doubt – climb
over obstacles, persevere

through red tape, and
when disease persists and
compassions run dry,
we resign ourselves

to a new course,
will embrace any madness
believe that a new set of eyes
just might turn our lives around.