“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Monday, July 29, 2013


Cleft from the mainstream,
I turned into The Other,
not quite a good fit.

Forced to reinvent
my roles and relationships,
I sought a new me.

Prompted to value
the transformation life brought,
I release the past.


Gail said...

JUDY - I don't know how to respond, which foot (word) to put forward as I feel the awkward and unfamiliar newness of such a redesign. I will get in stride.....
Love Gail

Muffie said...

I left a comment, but I think it cut off in the middle. What I said was:
I have no choice but to reinvent myself. Who I was years, months, even weeks ago no longer exists. My evolution brings me to the here, the now. And this present self won't provide for the future me. I undergo a constant metamorphosis.

Karen said...

My first thoughts on reading this poem went immediately to the book, "The Other" by Thomas Tryon. So in that context, I will say that sometimes life is like a physiological horror story. But it is possible to stop playing the game, and leave all that you knew behind, and go forward.

My MS Walk said...

This is me right now ... learning how to find the 'new me' in all of this MS mess.

Thanks for the post. This is my first time here but I'll be back if I remember!

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

Gail, it sometimes is like treading new rocky ground with tender bare feet.

Muff, your statement “this present self won't provide for the future me” is particularly wrenching.

Karen, I never read the book. I don’t like horror! But your thoughts are spot on, yet I must admit that there was a great deal of the old me that I liked very much and can’t bring myself to leave behind. The illness and age have done their best to make that happen, though.

MMSW, welcome to my blog! I look forward to hearing from you again.