Syd Weedon

Disease

“Sickness will surely take the mind where minds don’t usually go…”

Disease.
My dark night,
your diagnosis.
Touch.
Clink glasses
together.
Anesthesia
is an art.

Tingling –
it never stops.
Skin is uneasy,
uncomfortable.
Escape?
Perhaps,
but not likely.
Drink my dream.

Memory –
make one quick.
Not enough, enough.
Grab a sliver of light,
a gesture.
This is healing.
This is holy
food on the table.

3 comments

    • Thanks. That’s a new one. I’m glad you found your way to my blog. I let my old one go (many reasons, but the main one was that it dawned on me that I no longer had any idea of what was on it). I found that I really missed the blogging so I started this one a couple of months ago.

      Like

      Reply

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