Yes, I am frightened.
I am frightened of being frightened.
My unsound mind,
dwells among dark shadows quaffing silence,
where the quadriplegic dead beckon,
a sea spewing out skeletal remains
of ancient swimmers.
Sounds of calcified castanets haunt my dreams.
Accusatory cranial eyes stare at me
and bony fingers point in my direction.
My crimson blood turns blue.
Oh! The fear, the fright that one day
I too will become unfleshed like them.
THE GIFT
Given a gift so undefined,
my life to win or lose.
Told, "Accept your fate," "capitulate," but
quit wears another man's shoes.
Diminished down to nothingness,
quadriplegic, useless, frail.
The respirator blocks my voice.
My body's now my jail
Days into weeks, weeks into months,
grappling insanity.
Barely alive, and trying to fight, for
sake of my humanity.
Dragging my brain down memory lane
picking my life apart.
Epiphanes, oaths, and promises.
The world for one fresh start.
Etched so deep, each time I weep
when Freebird starts to groove.
Playing along on my air guitar
when I felt my fingers move.
Tears are pouring down my face.
My life in every word.
My fingers missing every note.
I am my own freebird.
Then the work begins, so arduous.
The battle still up hill.
Nothing in this world will stop
a man with iron will.
I kept all oaths and promises.
I own my life again.
It didn't just make me stronger,
it made me a better man.
The day my life changed in one moment
just one cursed moment, time betrayed
An injury they said would now never heal
a quadriplegic ,waist down you're dead.
vibrant colors blurred into onyx darkness
crippled and chained , I lay, caged in bed
in a dark ocean of helpless emptiness
sinks a heavy sack, but floats suffocated
squirmy eyes lift a burden , is it pity I see?
my warped desires , waiting to get rusted.
In sky of mind, fantasy of broken wings
adieu O snowfields, where once I danced.
adamant heart behind a ribcage pounds,
gazing windows with glossy barren eyes.
numbed screams fade in garbled speech,
in my soundproof tavern, no will to live
but tears attenuated , I slowly prepare
Bon Voyage, attuned to my wheelchair.
29th March 2020
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
Contest Name The Day My Life Went Whacko
I saw a man with the courage to live
without legs or arms; he couldn't even crawl.
Begging for coins, folks weren't eager to give:
he's plopped on the street like a broken doll.
Hardened hearts walk by with barely a glance:
some accost him with sarcastic remarks.
Garnering pity is his only chance:
and so, he checks each stranger's eyes for sparks.
A quadriplegic: he's left immobile;
limbs lost to war, a fractured Frankenstein.
And yet, he attracts Angels with his smile,
connecting with souls who are genuine.
I can't imagine myself in his place:
or ever fathom what he's had to face.
Azure skies are today
blue and I’m in need of old
cabaret because I’m
depressed and melancholic I’m afraid
especially now that I’ve discovered I tend to
fidget a lot; I’ll probably
grab a drink or two and thereafter
hibernate till I recover my strength; I’ll probably make an
item for my day’s agenda
just maybe after sorting these items out, I would be
kicking and ready to go.
Lest I forget, I’ll also visit the
motherless babies’ home and
nurse me a kid or several
of course this is my primary obligation as a motherless myself, we will
play and have so much fun. After that I’ll visit a friend who is
quadriplegic. I will
remind her of the good old days. Yes! It’s a
sure thing that I’ll make her feel happy and
then she would laugh and cajole me after I reading her my irritating poems
ugh! I’ve really missed us taking walks and torturing poor Mrs.
Von de Trap with our silly games of mischief
We had always wanted to be rich; I wanted to be an Artist and she a
xylophonist;
Yeah I guess she would never be able to do that again; life’s truly a
zag!
voices get louder closer i hear the discussion
they stop at the stair top will someone come down
footfalls fade to quiet percussion
i hear banter upstairs smiles and laughter
sometimes they fight sometimes just talk
things slow down rest always comes after
laughter upstairs alas up there and not here
'member me?
a day goes by one more then another
up every morning wash my face brush my teeth
bury my head get more sleep that's what I'd ruther
quadriplegic me
six years and counting a day short of forever
FATHER TO SON...
(APROPOS A QUADRIPLEGIC SON WHO LIVED AND DIED BEAUTIFULLY)
In the stillness of your own
you taught us
the circadian rhythms of life
and its meandering flow
cascading life's tempestuous realities
year to year gracefully
wrapping pain into neat little packages
to be opened in the still of night
where you lay motionless
while spiritual healing moved
from one solution to another
as your soul communed with God.
How cleverly He disguised you:
a bud in waiting.
When blooming synchronized itself
with your unfolding
you became a radiant sunshine of joy:
then you gracefully slipped away.
Today
a gentle breeze blew baptismal bliss
over my every being
and i felt your sweet soul soaring
in the winds of time
and heard your redemption song
of peace and unity with Jah.
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