The life I wish to live,
(On the one hand, I am privileged to be taken care of in an excellent teaching hospital by skilful doctors and deeply caring, efficient nurses... on the other... well, on the other ... is a needle in my wrist, a PICC line in my arm, twenty tablets needing to be swallowed... but if I may borrow a third hand - yours - there is also spring... and crocuses... and summer to come... if I am weepy for now, bear with me, as winter bears up till spring.)
(Gathering for www.dversepoets.com Dverse Poets)
lives on the other side of this:
Maribeth removes the cannula
from the back of my writing hand,
but my nerves still remember Rachel’s
on the inside of my right wrist.
Seen or unseen, these veins connect,
mapped in despair together.
Mind is the beast to conquer, they say.
Hubris, I say. Body holds equal sway.
Memories exist in the pockets of cells,
passing down the tales.
So nobody forgets. No body forgets.
And the mind is never tamed.
The life I wish to live
lives on the other side of this.
Perhaps I live it in the wish?
© Shaista Tayabali, 2019
(On the one hand, I am privileged to be taken care of in an excellent teaching hospital by skilful doctors and deeply caring, efficient nurses... on the other... well, on the other ... is a needle in my wrist, a PICC line in my arm, twenty tablets needing to be swallowed... but if I may borrow a third hand - yours - there is also spring... and crocuses... and summer to come... if I am weepy for now, bear with me, as winter bears up till spring.)
