I am falling to pieces. This disease is taking its toll of me. There are craters within and without; I step into the puddles one by one and drown a little more. I am no one and nothing now. Just a single needle piercing the skin of a body in crisis from itself.
- Lewin Stroke Unit, midnight.
Dear Readers,
I am sorry to have been so blithering about my blog. I have been in and out of hospital so many times this year it makes my head spin. This month I have had two more rounds of monoclonal antibodies, and to be perfectly honest the poems I have gathered around me are of a particularly ghoulish nature. I read some to Dad last week, something about the shadow and the hangman, and at the close of reading, he rested his head in his hands and emitted a low, hollow moan.
Personally, I am quite partial to these goblin spooks of verses, and I wrote three deliciously dark pieces on the Lewin Stroke Unit over the weekend. The first is above, but I have written it as prose, because today I am home, and it is very hard to concern myself with needles and craters when I am snug as a bug in a rug... home, dear home, where the flowers bloom and the hooded look in my parents' eyes have disappeared once more.
Shall I share the others? Will you moan too?
Oh, please do share them with us, Shaista! It's good for you, and besides, I love a deliciously dark poem. It's much like dark chocolate, don't you think?
ReplyDeleteThis is one of the best things I've read on a blog, including the eerie and haunting ending of place and time. wonderful.
ReplyDeleteplease do, go on...
yes yes My dear Warrior...please go on. All of it....light and dark....
ReplyDeletethe idea of your PaPa head in hands...breaks my heart and is a picture waiting to be painted....I'm on it.
If I could, I would fly to you and wipe your brow, make a good curry for your parents, and bundle you even tighter.
Shaista,
ReplyDeleteI am in my studio tonight painting. I cannot relieve my mind of you. I have a show opening on Saturday and the gallery owner called to ask the title of my show.
It seems a bit late to be naming a show but I welcomed the call and told her, "Warrior."
So, this show will be for you.
Beautiful writing. Stay snug x
ReplyDeleteYes, share them and don't worry if we moan, we will moan because you are sharing with us the raw nectar of life, in your divine way.
ReplyDeletelove you!
darling shaista..keep writing - because however dark it may be you somehow make it so beautiful. Be strong little warrior. xxxx
ReplyDeleteHurray, hurray, you're back!!! Was getting a bit worried there. Ahem, yes I know the cake's still missing but I'm thinking maybe my favourite chocolate bar will have to do for now as am exhausted by work.
ReplyDeleteHurray!
I cannot feel you pain but I can know it in your words. I try to reach far beyond, to find the meaning to it all, inside, beneath the after glow of all the tears. But my rambling lips and trembling hands are useless means to train my thoughts to the beating of your sweet precious heart. I can only hope and pray that beauty will find you in the middle of your smiles when the new day rises to shower you with all it's glory. And in it a new will to teach the children songs of life, to create castles of hope instead of demise, and sing songs of joy and peace in the garden of your dreams.
ReplyDelete