Those of us with a chronic, disabling illness go through a lot of 'ups and downs' in our life. Especially is we were formerly athletic, wore high heels, had a muscular body, or were just in good shape, things change. It is as if we live in a body that doesn't belong to us. For someone who has never been disabled, you can only imagine this; you are not "in" this Special Club. For those in the Club, you know of what I speak. I've written books, blogs, short stories, scientific Abstracts, and a myriad of types of writing, but the Holidays bring out a certain kind of sadness that I know. That we all know. So, here is my attempt at poetry in the raw, from that black pit that wants to overcome me and you with destruction, because there is no good in it. I only share it with you so that some of you can relate, knowing you are not the only one.
You are with Me During the Invasion of Holiday Loneliness
I just want this day to end.
I just want it to be behind me.
I know I have a future with God,
but this is not the time
to be reminded.
I am drowning,
but I know I can find the air.
I can see the rippling sky so high above me,
and although my warfare gear sucks me down,
I take it off and leave it behind,
so I can make it to my next breath.
My lungs want to pop,
my ears are full of pressure.
But I give one last huge, gigantic kick
I grab on to a wall that saves me.
With one enormous, deliberate inspiration of air,
I shiver and I shake, scared.
I look around and can not distinguish people,
but I can hear the music
and all the party chatter, and in horror,
I realize that no one even missed me.
So I close my eyes and stop seeing,
and I stop listening to the music,
I feel you behind me and I turn around slowly.
And as I am taking that second breath of air,
I look up, but you are but a blur.
In time, however, the blinks of my eyes erase the blur of you,
transforming you into who you truly are,
Dear Lord, and I thank you for not leaving us,
for not forsaking me,
even to the end of time.
Short Stories about Dr. Margaret Aranda