A girl who used to look forward to dinner and a movie
The simple pleasure of walking hand in hand with stillness and a harvest moon
was handed a poisoned fortune cookie
caught a virus, and that virus crawled into her stomach, like a ray gun
it changed the waves until, her stomach like arrythmia of the heart
was fitful and lurched
she was instantly sickened, from a person of health she turned
green
her body shut down and said
no, I don’t want to eat
dimly she remembered the days
she would lust and long for food
her appetite completely gone, the acidic growl of her stomach
held all dominion
she was slave to nausea 24/7
like a merciless dictator it left her no peace
even in the lingering hours of night
she woke bathed in sweat
her stomach somersaulting in wicked mirth
such a terrible feeling of imbalance and sickness
her hands gripped the sides of the toilet
she prayed until her head ached
for nothing could have prepared her
nothing assuaged the constant torture
every day of every day
she began to imagine
her death
fondly like a fantasy
and then when she realized what she was doing
she would cry until the crying
made her sicker and she had to stop
bottle all the anquish up
but there was nowhere to throw it, or store it or let it free
it built higher like a fortress
locking her out of life
days, weeks, months went by
she was captured between glass
unable to eat or drink without throwing up
or wishing she never had to try to chew, force food in green bilious mouth
perhaps it was punishment for a former life
where she was greedy and ate too much
or tormented the Fates with the heal of her shoe
it seemed definitely karmic punishment
just as her will to live, ran thin and irregular
sometimes imperceptable
like arrythmia pulses below the surface
that would not quiet or return to normal
disturbing former calm we take for granted
a girl who used to look forward to dinner
sits at a quayside cafe, drinking empty glasses
eating plates without food
staring at turbulent water rise and fall
waves crashing without sequence, into wet wood
holding back or pushing forward, who knows?
one day either the sea will admit defeat, or erode everything
and that is how I will be free, she says
to carefree birds overhead, yet to be struck down
they know not their good fortune
TheFeatheredSleep 
Great lines: stomach somersaulting in wicked mirth ….locking her out of life….drinking empty glasses
Poignant and powerful! I’m reblogging. Thanks.
Reblogged this on NANMYKEL.COM and commented:
Powerful
You honor me my friend 💓
I think for anyone, it’d be hard to read this and not feel something:
“every day of every day
she began to imagine
her death
fondly like a fantasy
and then when she realized what she was doing
she would cry until the crying
made her sicker and she had to stop
bottle all the anguish up
but there was nowhere to throw it, or store it or let it free”
That’s what you do–you make people feel, something. Even through your own pain, you still do it.
💓
I don’t know how long I have followed you, but it must be at least six enchanted years 😘 It is a constant amazement to me how truly, beautifully, prolific you are 😀
I love this
You continue to amaze as you repeatedly pull out your pain and write about it with frightening and creative images that we cannot turn away from as your pain seeps into our gut. It is easy to take dinner and a movie for granted.
I’m so sorry for all you’ve had to endure. Your courage and your ability to turn that into these evocative word pictures is truly amazing. Warmest wishes and healing thoughts, Candice. 💜
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – How well can a rebellious stomach be described, even beautifully? Here is a measure.
Amazing courage….so well spoken. I wish you all the best.
You have wonderfully described the finest of lines between physical health and illness. The line is equally thin between mental health and being separated from reality. I’ve crossed them both. True words here. Thank you. Prayers without ceasing for you. It is so easy to take good physical and mental health for granted when we feel great! As it says in one of my favorite books, ” it is like a mist….”
I have no words to describe your ability to write poetry where I can always find something to admire and to think about.
Your ability to draw out such stunning images even while suffering is amazing. May the day arrive when this miserable illness will be nothing but a bad memory. Sending another hug….and a promise to email soon. 💕💕💕
You capture everything so vividly. I hope you are on the mend. x
I do hope the past tense is the correct one for this excellent description
I was thinking aboutyou this morning. Hoping, your stomach was doing even slightly better. Having a chronic illness is a real bitch and i am thinking of you and hoping for you.
Awesome writing as always.
I have often wondered do the birds know how lucky they are up there
Hello Lovely Girl. I agree about the birds 🙂 How is your daughter? I agree about chronic illness ,I’m determined to overcome it, not happening yet but it will. Thank you for caring. You are one of those rare lights that suffers yourself so much but always has time for others and cares so much despite your own struggles. I admire you so much for that my friend
It is hard to not care about someone like you. It would take a heart of stone to not care about someone else that has such a good soul but is suffering too.
Some days I have more of a will to overcome than others!
My daughter has hit rock bottom. I have hope for her though. We keep pressing on with appointments hoping to help her.
I just got word that the doctor who had previously given up on my muscle disease case had found someone in the US that may be able to do some research for me to try and find the mysterious gene that is causing this disease.
Seems like whenever I give up hope, something comes along and restores it.
Even if it is just a bird soaring in the sky!
Sending
Sending ❤ – just in case 😉
This almost made me cry.