July 8th, 2006

flight

poem

Border Crossing - by Shirley A. Serviss

Illness has its own agenda,
can't be scheduled around
work commitments, airline
tickets, vacation time.

It has its own itinerary,
takes people on side trips
they hadn't booked, to places
they've never been, nor longed to go,
where they don't know
the language, can't read the signs.

Illness turns night into day,
gives some only weeks, others
years more than the textbooks say.
Operates on its own
Mean time.
  • Current Mood
    depressed emotional
flight

by Shirley A. Serviss

Pain Is
-------
the sudden sharp thrust of a sword
stinging like a plague of mosquitos
uneven as the serrated edge of a
bread knife slicing
you in two
burning like a blow torch
throbbing like a two-cylinder engine
ever present
a dark shadow
a stalker
a ghost that haunts your life
no one else can see
or exorcise