Mona
Leaves
I love it when…
the sun is bright on red-tipped maple trees in the fall
that smell is in the air
the one that reminds me of crunching Wisconsin leaves under my feet
and a Packer game waiting to be cheered.
Apple cider, hay rides in the fields and pumpkins smashing
all memories of a lifetime ago
when I was me
it has been so long
I look back with such nostalgia
and can hardly imagine what my life would have been like
without that Thanksgiving nightmare
Would the sun shine brighter?
would the reds be redder?
what would me – be?
the foreign reporter I dreamed of?
I always thought my life had no limits
until the scars put the brakes on all my possibilities
reduced my life to those crunching leaves,
in pieces
dry
flittering away
Marshmallows
It sounded like…
marshmallows – a quiet blur but for the loud beating of my heart
two white balls of fluff resting on the table
attached to my wrists
they looked so bright and pristine
Doc slowly beginning to unwrap them
white gauze rolling off in waves
the silence became shrill in my mind
an inward scream at the unveiling
White turning to red – splotchy
such a gentle man given such a brutal task
the pain came then – sticky – pulling
ever so carefully revealing what I didn’t know
What I had yet to see of my losses
I gasped as the last layer jerked free
what would be saved?
I could type 100 words a minute…
gone
The sound of shivering – shaking
nerves raw – tendons exposed – movement stifled
so many questions – unanswered
Cope – hold it in
think of white fluffy nothing
breathe
just keep breathing
Rewrap them
give me new gauze and shade the truth from me
later
perspective will come later
peace – maybe some day
soothe it all by oblivion for now
Survive
just survive
Under The Cloud
Being severely burned is a nightmare you never get to wake up from...
The realization that your life will never be the same
You will never be treated again as a whole person
Smiled at
Flirted with
Accepted as normal
And worthy of a positive response
Always encounters are colored by deformity
Scars that hide the beauty of old
Diminish the spark and candor of emotions expressed
Lost in contusion
Buried under ropy tissue
That pulls and twists wherever it wills
The battle to reconstruct is lifelong
There are no breaks
There are no true get-aways
My scars always go with me
Visible - Encountered
Never hidden
Always responded to in some fashion
Out of my control
As much as I try to pave the way
I can never predict
I can never know
I can only cope
Each new day
Each new person
A life lived under the cloud
The residual nightmare
That can't and won't let me go.
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