June:
There is a shift in the path,
And the tendons in my ankle give.
I fall onto the wet sand,
Knowing the only way back up is
To crawl.

I take myself to the hospital,
The tears as much from solitude
As the weight I can no longer bear
Without pain.

Slowly, I focus on healing
While others take my duties,
Then give them back too soon.
Months later, my tendons remain
Unable to adequately support the thick mass
I still agree to carry.

August:
My left arm tingles
While a thin ribbon of agony
Spirals through my shoulder, down my arm and into my hand.
X-rays reveal degenerative arthritis,
Narrowing of the spinal canal
Which is impinging on my nerves,

And a condition symbolic of
The way I suppress everything until it spikes –
Bone spurs, or, as I’ve come to see them –
Rebellious thorns, poking me all over,
In an effort to wake me again.

Still I trudge blindly forward
In a stubborn stupor,
Unwilling to abandon my duties,
Manning my post, now, less heroic with each passing day,
And more ridiculous.

September:
A tiny little wasp hovers hungrily
Near the bottom half of my other leg,
Causing me to side-step-forward.
A loud crack followed by a searing pain
That nearly steals my consciousness.

This time, I am carried to the physicians
By hands full of love and care,
Yet the verdict is louder than ever –
I no longer possess the strength
To support this burden.

I am, in fact, crumbling.

So I am letting go,
“Failure” beckoning in a sickly-sweet melody,
But I must not succumb.
I have to keep moving
Until I find my own way home.

09/24/2010

Author's Note: Please hold me together just a little while longer....

Posted on 09/24/2010
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie