The Final Shake
Whap! It came over me
not sudden-like at the time,
but later – much later as
numbness wore off; anaesthetic
fell back, and I
was left with
me.I knew it was possible,
yet not realizable –
this second-round hit
that was here
on my doorstep
looking at me
and yet not –Just unconcerned
and uncaring – just there –
and growing somehow;
not thrown off like
the others they
speak of
each day.So – like a great quilt or blanket –
those blankets from Camp –
Ker-whap! Ker-whap!
They shake ‘em out,
and off we go
like so much dust –
debris tracked
in the tent
after swim.How serious is not known yet –
not yet at least to me, I guess –
but that too will come,
like that old whirling tornado
with its double walled
question of fury
and its silence
deep within.Lord, I really didn't believe all this could go again
and yet – here it is –
and perhaps it will be yet again;
for the ‘Journey’ is not linear
but cyclical –
round and round,
up and down,
going nowhere,
as the music
plays its
loop
as
well.
Like a swimmer in that torrent
gulf, coming up for air,
then finding air to have gone –
as once again he's pulled,
and torn, and battered
in its torrent
round the rocks.I find that gulp of air
which lasted oh so long
was just an illusion.
It's not gone – it's back –
the slow-motion-extended
gulp of air and
short reprieve was
indeed oh so short –
like that film of
hanged escapee
rushing through
his fields of
corn –
his dream.So now I get ten days or so
beneath the water, with
the slime and seaweed,
to think about this scene –
with lungs exploding,
mind collapsing
inward like
before –Well, not quite like before
for I'm back on their radar now –
but hellish just the same –
strong drink of bitters
with no twist of lemon –
bitter still,
nonetheless.Lord, I know I'll wake to face another day
tomorrow – rise and face, yes indeed,
rise and face – but now is now,
and all this crushes me
within
once again.Lord, I for those who face this daily
pray – for relapse or second site
at least gave days of sweet relief
and lift of burden from my heart,
as yet it may once more
if all this is not that
return of horror
once again.I guess some others can
take all this stuff in stride
and carry on, but Lord, it sucks me dry
and carries off my joy and laughter
in its wake
indeed – a wake –
indeed.Lord, I needs’ go to bed
and let this day of terror
to my soul ebb off like
tide receding from my soul;
for in those hours of sleep
I find reprieve for what
I can no longer
bear – despite
all hope and faith
and love which
me
surrounds.Lord, that is me – not me the
great, triumphant over all that comes
before me – but the me
that crashes inward as I
face a stupid little
cell that may indeed
have gone its
nasty way –
berserk, without
control
like
Abraham
of old.Lord for your Isaac – seeing son
of all constraint withholding one
who wielded death within
his unsheathed hand,
I too now pray
for Angel tears to
fill the eyes I find
now dry
yet crying out
that it might stop
in time – and
stop forever
this sad
game of
unrestricted
growth.Lord, may I use these moments
of these unconfined confusions
to address what I'd postponed
for life within that gap of
short reprieve –To redefine my future and my
life down here anew, to
stop my stupid excess –
finding joy within restraint –
and turn aside from all
the silliness
around.Lord, I'm not sure just where
all this is going, and I know that
I can't see through showered
tears to what's ahead.But I pray your peace might find me
in the torrent of this canyon,
and I feel the solid ground
once more beneath
my feet.Thank you.
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