Poetry

Water is the key to life.

We all need it to survive.

Funnily enough

even though there is water frozen outside

this winter feels so dry.

Thankfully the humidifier has arrived.

The voice says

horrible, ugly things.

Things heard every day.

All day.

For all my life.

I know what the voice says

is not true.

Yet, still I hear it

and try to push against it.

Maybe one day

I will have a different

kinder voice.

One that I would like to hear.

Even if it is quiet now,

I know it is in there.

The times.

When all I am,

is existing.

I have found

those who care for me.

Even when I do not

understand

why.

Motorized gliders.

Steel ships.

Horseless carriages.

Electronic bikes.

Interactive wheelchairs for the severely disabled.

Now we just need to make everything accessible.

I have come to terms

that I will always expect

that things will work out in the end.

Whether I work towards something or not

My problems will resolve themselves

and new ones will appear.

The consequences of my actions

are not always what I want

but I will accept them

despite any peevishness.

Wipe your feet.

Use before entering.

It will be dirty so you can be clean.

So often you can feel like a door mat.

Confrontation is hard for anxious people.

We have been brought up

that everyone else

is more important than we are.

So to remove the door mat

takes courage

as well as setting boundaries

that you never knew

you had the strength for.

Oh, to be a kid.

Running away from responsibilities.

Letting others be in charge.

Finding unexpected joy in little things.

Having adventures no one else can see.

It is harder now, but somedays I can still find that kid.

I know I need it.

Eyes should be closed.

Yet, they are still open.

I blink and think.

My thoughts refuse to quiet.

So, I am left wondering,

Will I have another nightmare tonight?

Simple mechanic.

Cards drawn.

Played and used.

Character goals.

Different for each one.

It is fun.

Enjoyment succeeds.

Waiting for the therapist to call back.

Need to rebook session due to the powerful cold.

Still need food to survive it.

Simple sandwich made.

Yet, as always a morsel falls out.

This time it was a half eaten pickle.

One might say that was a metaphor for my life.