I know people who have recovered from ME and I know that I will recover sooner rather later. This blog is about sharing what does and doesn't help, what you should and shouldn't waste your money on.
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
The Glass Cage
You cannot see the walls of my glass cage
You think: She walks, she talks, what can the problem be?
You cannot see the energy that drains from every cell just to sit and speak
The rope strung tight that every sound sets jangling
The Tsunami of poison rising ready to sweep
The closing of the window
You cannot see the umbilical cord that tethers me to my bed
Nor how like an embryo I am flayed and unable to survive for long in the outside world
You cannot see the Death’s-head moth that hovers over me
Fluttering its wings against my breast
Before coming to settle its massive furry head upon my chest
I cannot see electrons circling a nucleus
I cannot see the thoughts forming in your head
I have no evidence of your feelings beyond your words
No one yet has precisely defined what the difference is between alive and dead
Because of that are all these things mere phantasies?
I hear the footsteps of my daughter
Her laughter echoes like the ghost of a family I once lived amongst
Gone is my agency
Gone my lived-full-life
I wait and wait for the ink licked fingers that press me down to one day let me go
Labels:
poem,
the glass Cage
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