Thursday 29 March 2018

My Left Arm


“Get help…”
Before
an unwanted
amputation.

Breathe
in cycles.
In and out.
In and out.

Before colours
of ‘a new you’
even start
to come to life.

Or bloom
a new tinge;
a crack
in the bone.

As one limb
lays numb,
silent
and hurting.

Memories
of yesteryears
wash and amass.
Spring floods.

A shift
in sleep
does not help.
Pity party.

Tears are alright.
Pain is alright.
Alone is here.
Alone is now.

Life is sadnormal.
And arms
are extensions
of oneself.

6 comments:

  1. Find the poem to make me think and reflect, I like it a lot :)

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  3. "life is sadnormal"
    simple and yet one can feel the gravity of the emotions pulling one in.

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  4. "arms are extensions of oneself" - very evocative. an absolutely obvious thing to say but, in saying it, creates resonances of constraint. well done.

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