Sunday, November 17, 2013

Where

Where are my children? Where is my family? I can feel them swirling around behind me. Last night I felt a little arm pull a cover up for me. Over a cold part. I think that was Fiona. I'm not sure. Later I felt a little warm leg on my back. I think that was her. I don't know. I don't know where anyone is, or anything. I'm in a rice paddy. The rice paddy of pain, a rice paddy of death, the death paddy, rice paddy rice paddy rice paddy. I cannot eat anything and I'm starving. I'm so hungry my stomach is turning inside out and it is imploding. This is worse. This should be better. This is worse.

I can't see them.

I'm trying to try. I don't want to. I'm not wild. The word wild means willed, as in the creature or object or entity at its most supremely willed state of being - its essence. It is necessary for the creature to have a strong will in order to be able to accomplish this. Animals are wild, they are acting out who they are purely and openly with no regrets or thoughts or feelings or knowledge even. I have too much knowledge and no will. I am not wild right now.

My plate lies upon me. My eggs lie upon the plate. My hand lies upon the quilt. Nothing goes in.

A poem I found:

On Hearing Your News

BY KATE BUCKLEY
My eyes lie flat in my skull,
darkened, bruised
 
lashes whip-stitched to swollen lids –
sleep has once again been elusive.
 
My organs weigh more
than they did the day before,
 
swollen with unhappiness,
gorged on regret:
 
tiny fists in my stomach pummeling
the hanging ball of my heart.

Kate Buckley, "On Hearing Your News" from A Wild Region. Copyright © 2008 by Kate Buckley.  Reprinted by permission of Moon Tide Press.


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5 comments:

  1. MargaretNovember 17, 2013 at 9:34 AM

    Fiona is a kind soul, Amy. Always knowing when to comfort you gently. I will be willing a swift transition into tolerable, then good for you. We made dinner at a Ronald McDonald House yesterday. The parents were exhausted after a long day at the hospital. Damn this disease and the toxic cures it still requires! Love you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AmyNovember 17, 2013 at 7:05 PM

      You're a good person! I'm a tiny bit better now. Thank you for your continual care. XO

      Delete
  2. beeNovember 17, 2013 at 8:17 PM

    If I could I would wish your pain away. I am in awe that you still type, still share yourself with others, that is courage and making yourself vulnerable while sharing this most personal journey. Hugs.

    ReplyDelete
  3. hillaryNovember 17, 2013 at 10:36 PM

    you are in the wilderness, but you're not alone.

    ReplyDelete

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