Voice

I have
no voice

lost it, perhaps

or merely
forgotten it

This sickness
has changed me
is changing me

turning me
inside out

No
not like a hurricane
or a quick
tornado

More like
a piece of laundry
left out on the line
in a thunderstorm,
twisted out of shape

In the complicated
process
of freeing myself
I have forgotten
my song
forgotten
to sing

I am still
hanging limply
on the line
practicing
sounds
whispering
words
looking
for my voice
in the midst
of the loud
shrieking
of this illness

And I wonder
if
learning to listen
comes first

 

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Seasons Slip

My foot slips
and I slide
the thundering sound
of tumbling rocks
blinds me
until
I can no longer see
or dream
you

My mind slips
and I fall
and curl
into myself
making
the gutter my home
as autumn leaves
cover me
waiting
for the green man
to claim me
again

and I spit
and claw
resisting
fighting
refusing
to surrender
even as death
taunts
until I forget
to breathe
waiting
for snowfall

26 September 2018

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