Legacy

Legacy

I had a nightmare last night.
In the corner of a dump
Hundreds of plastic laundry containers--
Even in the dream state, I recognize them.
Their contents spilled on the ground,
A graveyard of glass syringes.

That is what I left behind?
Piles of plastic and glass—

Glatirimar Acetate
During a double-blind, placebo-controlled pivotal trial, COPAXONE®reduced relapses by 29% vs placebo over 2 years in patients with RRMS (Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis) diagnosed using Poser criteria.6

No note to mention this drug only helps some people,
No guarantees.
Try Rebif, Avonex, Betaseron or Copaxone
Try hope…

No note to mention
Some never find a drug that helps--
There is no cure for Multiple Sclerosis.

Teva pharmaceuticals packages hope in blue, rectangular boxes.
30, prefilled glass syringes,
1mL Glatiramer Acetate.
Individually sheathed in smooth plastic casing.
Stacked in rows of 5
Soldiers battling disease?
Nestled beside 30 alcohol swabs
Individually sealed.

Cremate my body.
Only ashes remain.
My legacy—
Just comb through my trash.

Broken

I reach for your sleeping form in the night--
My heart races
You are not beside me.
I am disoriented.
I cannot seem to remember how to sleep.
I am hot, awake and restless.

My heart feels pulverized.
How did we come to this?
Oh my sweet love,
Now stranger who shares my home.
I feel my disease
snuggling in for a long stay.

My hands and arms are numb
But my heart seems to bleed.
It beats heavily in my chest
A swift, dull thud with the pain.
I'm crying because I feel so scared and alone
I hurt so much.

All I want is to be comforted
I want to be reassured
I want to be held
I wish for sweet nothings whispered in my ear
But I am mocked by silence.
I breath deeply into the darkness seeking calm like an anchor in the storm.

Where I seem to be living

I find myself swallowed into the deepest, darkest cavern that I have ever known and I cannot seem to find a light.
I crawl on bare knees, constantly seeking smoother ground.
I call out into the depths but there is no answer.
I find myself alone here, girded for battle yet terrified.

I feel dull about the edges.
A cold numb, paws at my insides but flames seem to dance along my skull.
The flames lick about on my neck and down my arms and I howl into the abyss seeking relief.

I let my tears rain for days
But there is no relief.
Now I am spent but hollow.
I seek a reason to put one foot before the other.
I seek a reason to get up every day and try again.

The world has lost is flavor.
Everything seems dulled now.
Music barely stirs me
Food is losing its taste
Sleep is marred by demons
Or worse,
By waking to find that nothing has changed.

This is not what I want
This is not the self I recognize
I am not the me I want to be
I don't know what the hell I want--

Where the Sun Becomes the Moon

Took you under my wing,
Tiny thing.
Locked within my heart and mind,
I never pined.
With you tucked amongst my feathers,
we both rose,
Seldom froze--

Amongst the soft, gray, clouds,
All around
Steeped in the semi-darkness of blue surreal,
where the sun becomes the moon,
In unreal,
Light--

I shielded you deep,
Felt you sleep--
Nestled gently in the down of my wings.
Slumbering there,
Without a care,
For the danger we were in.

I swooped through the sky,
Rapid fly,
Of a miniature bird of prey.
Holding you close,
As we flew through the murky sky,
Once again the sun-moon,
Caught my eye--
And I watched it glisten on my feathers,
glowing jewels of perfect light,
I could not fight--
The excitement,
beating through my veins.


Watched the water slithering,
swiftly,
Out across my wings,
Resembling things,
Like tiny tadpoles,
headed out for their first wriggle,
Cross the sand.

Cross the sand,
In desert heat,
To the strange eclipse of pale,
luminescent sunlight,
Bathed within the clouds--
Where the sun becomes the moon,
a metaphor for us,
My love.
You the sun,
I the moon.
Beautiful you,
With golden hair,
Bronze skin,
Glimmering,
Eternal soul of joy,
Sweet boy--
I sometimes envy your glowing outlook.
Seldom dreamer,
You.

Everybody’s friend,
Seldom my lover,
I do not suffer--
You are direct,
Directed,
Linear,
Ruled by laws, absolutes and science,
As certain as the sun will rise,
Despite my cries--
Of longing,
At the cool, gray moon.
Soon,
I will see her swell,
Tell me that I ought to cry,
or sigh--
Because the world is spinning,
so swiftly,
beneath my feet--

I can not capture,
All the sun the way you can.
You are the sun,
I the moon.
your eyes are open in daylight,
Mine at night--
where I hover in the world of dreams,
And it seems,
I am always trying desperately,
Not to drop you,
From the place I have you guarded,
Beside my heart,
Beneath my wings.