Saturday, August 16, 2014
Poem -"Some Days"
Poem –“Some Days”
Some days I sit and wonder:
where would I be if my life had not been interrupted
in so dramatic a fashion?
Some days I mourn for what was,
for the dreams and plans I had made for myself, for a fully functioning body
Some days my emotions boil over because my body cannot seem capable
of performing the simplest tasks
Some days I sit and think where I might be if life had not veered off course
Some days I wonder when I will be treated like a normal 26 year old,
and not so much as a teetering toddler
- I understand the over-protective nature, but it can be frustrating to be treated with kid gloves
Some days I bite my tongue;
I am often my own worst critic, demanding perfection,
and my words tend to lack any vestige of kindness or grace
Some days I think to myself: time is moving so quickly and I am fixed in place
I see the graduations, the engagements, the weddings, the baby showers
- I am the audience, and the entire world seems to be a rapidly evolving storyline
Some days I think of myself as: helpless, unstable, insecure, vulnerable…
Some days I feel like damaged goods,
like a shipwreck that has been scavenged over;
its treasures and precious cargo have been stowed away and the damaged hull remains sunk in the muck and mire
Some days I feel fragmented, incomplete, inadequate
Some days I am unsure as to what happened to me,
but my physical limitations are pointed reminders
Some days, I feel so blessed, just thankful to be alive,
and driven to regain what was lost
Other days, I raise my eyes heavenward and ask God,
“Why, why must I go through this?”
Some days I feel like myself,
Other days I feel like a foreigner, a stranger among the familiar faces
People are not always sure how to approach me, how to interact with me
- Am I any less the man that I was? Is it to spare them from stumbling into some kind of awkward situation?
I have undergone an unexpected and, frankly, unwanted transformation;
I’ve had to adapt; there was no choice in the matter
How can I prove to those around me that I’m okay?
Am I still the same guy as before?
I am not, and I do not think it possible to endure such a traumatic experience,
and walk away the same person
The nagging question is:
“What do I do?”
To pick up the shards and shuffle along through life seems pathetic
It is unimaginable!
It is unbearable!
It is unacceptable!
I am motivated to do more, to say more, to write more
Now, Satan would have me think that a ticking time bomb is rooted in my brain;
That which caused the stroke still exists, but it has been neutralized
He harangues me frequently, feeding me the false idea that any degree of strain will cause another hemorrhage, another stroke, and that death will swallow me up
I call it for what it is: deception
If he had the power I would already be decomposing in the ground, but he possess far too little, and has no influence on how I will live my life
he is not an equal force to god Almighty
I could grumble and complain, turn sour and develop a self-destructive attitude,
but what good would that do?
Why should temporary physical limitations dictate to me how I will spend my days?
Tomorrow is full of possibilities and eventually inabilities will give way
Hope lives, ambition survives, the motivation to succeed remains
I am a work in progress,
This is a process
I am the benefactor,
for the pace of life rarely slows down in order to gain clarity and direction
The story of my life is not yet complete
His hand has not set down the pen…it is still in motion