How are you today?
Broken, I say.
Are you ready to go?
I’m uncertain of every step,
so no.
Can we help at all?
I don’t understand what “help”
you mean. Are you suggesting
you help me go? No,
we mean to try and help you calm down,
steady your steps, get well.
I don’t know how that would feel.
Would I still be myself if I were not
this much fracture, this much moan?
Hello?
Dark Matter 
May 11th, 2015 at 11:38 pm
Would I still be myself if I were not this much fracture, this much moan?
Every four or five months
I wake up without pain.
It takes me a few minutes
to realize what’s different.
Then to puzzle over why.
Stop! Don’t question it,
just rejoice and be glad in it.
and sometimes I do and
it lasts all day or almost..
At some point I say
to my ghost body,
“Oh yes! I remember.
We were such good friends.
Danced with the children
lifting them high
loving their laughter.
We hiked with a baby
carried on our back,
rode horses,swam the sea,
made love in the sand.
I remember now
how much I miss you.”
Then comes morning,
yesterday’s youth is gone
I pull my aged body
clumsily out of bed
Ripette van Winkle.
Was that just yesterday?
Takes days to let go
of my lovely delusion
a fleeting memory
of being me again.
(Sorry about suddenly taking to writing such long responses. Your poems, far better than mine, are thawing some frozen creativity in me. I’m not sure there’s much point in repeating more awkwardly than how you express what resonates with me, but somehow it’s like claiming a truth for myself. Does that make any sense?)
May 16th, 2015 at 10:31 am
It does make sense. I’m honored by the fact that it would do that.