The day seems to have stormed in
and I seek to harness it,
even as I am battered before I can rise.
with my brain screaming, “Bow! RETREAT!”
I am fueled but the minute failures
so small that they cannot be evidenced,
And because I know them
I do all I can to rise,
and suffocate them in the shadow of a successful day.
But the moment I find my footing.
I’m swallowed by a pounding wave of nausea and weakness
I am humbled and I bow
I sleep and I wake up “fully in control”
for a few brief minutes,
before being forced to bow under the weight of another wave
So, this evening I write in a nightgown that got to meet the day
and hair that was not tamed
with not but the coming morning for my happy begin-againing
I have yet to learn how to stop swiming against the current when I fall into illness,
but at least I don’t jump off of its deep in and try to inhale it anymore