At times my legs feel
funny and I struggle to decide which one should support me, as I stand shifting
my weight from side to side. Something is wrong.
At other times I question
the temperature. “Is it hot in here?” I may say, as sweat crowds my brow, weeps
down my sideburns and spills onto my shirt. Something is wrong.
Whether slow or fast in
its advance, eventually I feel its weight; it pulls me down and drains my
strength and wisdom all too quickly. Something is wrong
Time is slow now. I discover
I have downshifted from a participant to observer. I can’t report my findings
very well – Energy is spent, even moving is difficult. Something is wrong
In many ways I’m not with
you. I am standing beside you – Two steps back. The seat of my chair – Below
you on the floor. You are a movie I’m watching, silently from my seat. Your
caring words, lines in the script – Heard by me without reaction. Something is
wrong.
You narrow your eyes at me,
focused now on my struggle. Some might ask if I’ve been drinking, but you know
me. You know that something is wrong.
You know me, so you know something.
You know what is wrong.
You save me because you
know me and know that something is wrong.
Wow Doug, this is so powerful! Without any definition I believe I do know what is wrong, but I can see multiple interpretations. Nice post!
ReplyDeleteI just read this to Gary and his comment was, "A writer and a poet!" Nice work...
ReplyDeleteAfter a particularly bad insulin reaction (low blood sugar) I felt compelled to describe what the experience is like for me. For me the bad ones often take the form of an out-of-body-experience. The poetic format seemed to write itself. Thank you for your kind words.
ReplyDelete