Reason for Silence?

I checked my list of
the MS blogs I follow.
Many are quiet.

Has the MonSter felled
some of my compatriots
silencing their blogs?

Some say blogging’s out.
Little time. Lots of options.
True for our blogs too?

How to Break Out?

Just because I’m sick,
I am not given free pass
to skip other stress.

Stress feeds on itself.
One stress begets another
exponentially.

When caught in a loop,
breaking out is difficult
but still possible?

Now This Happens

I injured my back.
It could be ordinary
except it lingers.

This could be MS,
I finally realized.
I hope like hell not.

I have been faithful
exercising and toning.
Damn, now this happens.

Memorial Day

a field of poppies
brilliant red above dark earth
abundant beauty

memories of lives
wrest away before their time
sacrificed to war

they fought fierce battles
waged for a greater purpose
freedom and safety

The Inevitable? - Encore

I’m resigned, I think,
to the inevitable
though I may hate it.

Fighting is either
thoroughly exhausting or
invigorating.

Making up my mind
which to embrace, fight or flight,
a work in progress.

How I Miss It - Encore

Heard salsa music
coming from the radio.
I wanted to dance.

Perspiring, happy,
snapping my hips at a club
like so long ago.

Love the thumping beat,
swirling and dipping at will.
Oh, how I miss it.

Quiet Giving - Encore

Such goodness abides
in the generosity
of those who help us.

They make no news splash
and stay in the background
seek no attention.

In quiet giving
pure compassion is displayed,
elevating lives.

The Missing Cart - Encore

The electric cart
was AWOL at the food store.
I was forced to walk.

Others shopped with ease
while I watched with great envy,
my tears held at bay.

I cried in the car
on the way home from the store,
missing my old self.

A Dare - Encore

Let us go racing
in our motorized carts
while shopping for food.

Let us see how well
we can resemble nimble,
swift go-cart drivers.

Let us zip and dash,
beep and reverse, cut corners,
and spark a new trend.

Holding on to a Memory - Encore

When did it become
my normal way of being
to watch others walk?

How did I forget
how easy it was for me
to run down the street?

How do I retain
my fast fading memory
of who I was then?

I Live by a Preserve - Encore

A woodpecker drills
on the tree by my window
its manner serene.

An owl sits on
nearby evergreen branches
staring at my face.

Raccoons meander.
Armadillos dig for food.
This is where I live.

Ode to My Commenters

Perhaps not many
read closely my blog’s comments
but they are worthwhile.

They will set me straight
keep me from veering far off
from wisdom’s good sense.

Some favorites shine
among so many options,
this, this, this, and this.

Raw

Want raw honesty?
Matt bares it all in this post.
It just breaks my heart.

When someone so young
faces such crushing losses,
I could scream at fate.

Who am I kidding?
Loss is loss despite the age.
MS is a thief.

We All Sound So Sane

We all sound so sane.
If I did not know better
I’d think us all well.

Does anyone write
with clear brutal honesty
about the losses?

Or are we all stuck
in resolutely brave mode
glossing over truths?

Seeking Connection

This disease process
we all try to understand
fails comprehension.

A challenging journey
across time and space,
often quite lonely.

We seek connection,
hoping for more than echoes
of one’s own voice.

A Better Perspective

Though her body fails,
a good night’s sleep restores her.
It lifts her spirits.

Aware of decline,
she wants to stay where she is
but knows it can’t be.

A quick glance outside.
The lovely sun shines brightly.
This remains normal.

Nature's Surprise

On a hiking trail,
yellow blossoms shine brightly
stars among dull fare.

Shining alongside
a path worn by hikers’ steps,
Moraea surprise.

I ask myself where
on nature’s path I can find
my blossom surprise.

Sometimes I Have to Ask This

Poignantly aware,
I witness my body fail.
Where is this going?

With no steady state,
redefined successively,
who is the me left?

Is this a set-up,
enough of me left to fool
me into hoping?

Mother's Day Wishes

On this Mother’s Day,
may love’s presence bring joy.
May laughter bring cheer.

Elusive Sleep

Fatigued as I get
sleep should come quite easily
except it does not.

Rules tossed and ignored
circadian rhythms mocked
as I watch the clock.

But I need my sleep!
Why can’t my body listen?
Wait, I have MS.

Nickels and Dimes

I started mending
something which cost ten bucks new.
What, am I crazy?

Instead of mending,
I used a website coupon.
Cost? Only five bucks.

In my former life,
I was never so frugal
as I must be now.

Essential Metaphor

Finding a light source
while in the midst of darkness,
essential for life.

Light as metaphor,
which form the light takes must fit
what each person needs.

Writing poetry,
my joys and fears revealed,
is my source of light.

And Then There Are Days Like This

I went out today
rollator and cane at hand
to do normal things.

Hiding in my house,
my shortfalls are not witnessed.
I can still pretend.

Others made me see
I hate being a cripple.
I hate it! Hate it.

Hugs

Hugs as peacemakers,
low-tech and inexpensive,
they go a long way.

I would make a bet
the world’s problems would be small
if hugs were the norm.

The tough steely glare
intimidates enemies.
It will not bring peace.

A Twilight Meditation

A young boy watches
gulls assembling at sunset
braving an east wind.

Western light still reigns
in twilight-hued harmony.
Calm waves lap the shore.

Life reassuring
transition from known to new
as a boy ages.

Questions

Does focus on loss
promote yet more loss and pain,
a vicious cycle?

Strong self discipline,
is that all one needs to see
only good in life?

Achieving balance
and honest optimism,
is there such a thing?

Seeking Grace

Handling life with grace
regardless of circumstance
remains a firm goal.

Low moments borne with
elegance and dignity
blunt sorrow’s despair.

One may not avoid
anger and depression but
pride remains unbowed.

Trading Up

In this neighborhood,
the fix-em-ups outnumber
move-in-ready homes.

The pipes are leaky,
the clapboards dulled and flaky.
The stairs sag badly.

Through a window peeks
a besieged long-time owner
who yearns to trade up.

Guessing Game

Kind of ironic
I look great but feel like shit,
half okay I guess.

Legs turn to noodles.
A day’s plans shunted aside.
With them go my hopes.

Hard to know what’s what
with the constant guessing game
my life has become.

Community

“Your poems make me
feel less alone,” he remarked,
moving me to tears.

I felt less alone
when unintentionally
my words brought solace.

This is a hard path.
Support and inspiration
are sorely welcomed.

A Balancing Act

It’s a tricky thing,
balancing reality
against denial.

Engagement is good
for getting things accomplished.
Sometimes I must flee.

All traits are useful
depending on time and need,
whatever it takes.