Erosion

I've spent eight years facing something I couldn't understand. The more I tried to explain it to friends, family and doctors, the more people thought I was imagining things. Or the more I got misdiagnosed. It took seven years with worsening severity before someone realized the spells I was going through... first months apart, then a few times a week and finally two to four times a day... were temporal lobe seizures. This poem is about dealing with the unknown, before I had a diagnosis and what's kept me from focusing on my poetry for so long. There are times that I must say I feel like cliffs near the sea. Where my health is left to fate. Where the winds and the waves take their toll on my mind and body. There I waste away the hours, caught between the fog and the rain. And then during the moments of my sanity, a part of me chips off and breaks away. I'm not the man I was before this started. I've found it hard to explain. But flee the days of healthy thoughts, flee the moments of my strength and carefree breezes. All the weather seems to be rougher, I'm a hurricane battered coast. But people see me and think this was just who I was meant to be, and how nature wants me to look. I can't hold on to the pieces of me that want to depart. I have no control, I'm often left feeling helpless as this erosion seeks to take hold of what remains.