I jolt awake,
back into the night,
where I wearily breathe and pad around the kitchen and hallways
without any sense of brightness or light.
Sleepily, I guzzle liquids,
after all, I crave them,
must it be due to the medication once forcefully fed to me?
I press myself to stay awake but
the effort is too much,
I crawl back into bed,
there’s a soft rustling,
a half-asleep groaning,
oh dear, my insomnia
has awakened him.
I cannot help my medical condition,
it is appearing to rear its ugly head,
the precipitation of an outburst of my other condition,
my positive yet negative malady?
I shut my eyes,
I tell myself it’s only for a moment,
then roused all of a sudden:
where am I?
It feels as though another continent.
Desperately, I call out for Mother,
my pleas are like sticky gems from the oceans and earth,
waiting to be accepted and acknowledged,
recognised perhaps, but not until the end of process.
I call and call
but I cannot find her,
perhaps she’s around the corner,
giggling with a close friend,
why, what mirth with that other,
And my father is watching protectively to the side,
making certain nothing untoward happens,
because in one fell swoop the world can change,
this I’ve sadly discovered.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Aline Ponce from Pixabay
Return to All Posts