how little I understand
my own illness
its blunt fogs
its sharp disquiets
the sheerness of the fall
back into myself
to be nothing more than
this body, here and now
elsewhere and -when
only a dream I visit
unwelcome, unwanted
my face is hidden
even from myself
my possibilities impossible
fragments of life unlived
scattered on bare ground
there will be no blossom
except invisibly –
phantom flowers
the painful glorious
ghostly unknowns
of the life that is mine
*
I hadn’t written anything in a long time, let alone a poem.
This one arrived when I had a bad headache and fatigue, and was lying in bed trying to rest, if not sleep a bit. Yet in the midst of rest the words started to come, and I had to get up to get my notebook, to record the words before I forgot everything.
A reminder that creative work comes when it is ready, and not before; and sometimes out of the most unlikely and uncomfortable experiences.
you've really hit on the realities of chronic illness. however we choose to think of it and express it, there is a limitation endured. and we mourn the unexpressed---unknown, even, as you observe--possibilities that might have been. "phantom flowers" indeed...
ReplyDeleteyou have produced some beautiful real flowers, too, in your art. but the frustration, the grief, is real. i struggle with it as well, and your articulation of it here feels so accurate.
Thank you. It is frustrating and sad, not being able to do and create as I would like. My health is deteriorating. And yet I am still finding wisdom and a certain beauty in the experience of illness, and new ways of thinking and being. I am looking forward to slipping back into the shadowlands soon for a long rest, to replenish my wellspring, and come back renewed.
DeleteReally enjoyed reading this poem, I only wish that you didn't have to live an experience which you have so beautifully expressed. I also fully go along with "creative work comes when it is ready, and not before". I have found that, at the right time, one finds the stamina in spite of feeling wrecked!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Malcolm. I find it so interesting how creative work often emerges out of little unexpected surges of energy, and things just fall into place. It's a bit like magic … if only we didn't have to live with the rest of the challenges. Still, every little creative piece is a blessing, a gift, and for that I'm grateful.
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