The concussion thing is finally running thin. Physical therapy has me walking without wobbling, no mysterious pains in the chest and I think I can go back to sandwiches on rolls–no longer depending on the thinness of bread–and not experience jaw ache. Periods of depression and anger are also back to pre-concussion frequency levels, and I’m not saying as many outright stupid things as during the last 6 weeks. And, yes (sigh), I’m working and riding the bike.
Thanks to all who wrote in concern. There is a “comments” tab at the end of this entry. Should you want to comment and want it accessable to others beside me, feel free to use it. So much of what I’ve received privately really deserved to be shared, but, as always, it’s your choice.
Here are some poems that appeared during the recovery period.
POST-CONCUSSION WRITING
Life so rich
so joyful,
pain and anger
sadness so deep:
why do I still
look for clues
in words?
* * *
Smooth and easy
this post-concussion world
Depression, my friend and teacher
wears a flowered summer dress
and smiles softly.
* * *
Why do I hurry?
Like spring or midnight or even death
I cannot be late.
* * *
This great time of healing continues
family, friends, work, the train
strange body, strange mind
even depression smells of love.
Yesterday the richness of rain
of work, friendship and strangers–
even a sandwich I’d never tasted before.
This morning my first ever drug dream.
* * *
Plastic teeth and lenses
metal stents and aches wherever,
too many memories to recall
and grandchildren!
Still old age avoids me.
* * *
Wherever I am
it’s me.
My curiosity
my discomfort
my lust
my peace
my foolishness
my anger
my taste in shirts
in music
in companions
my list of accomplishments
my list of regrets
my transience.
But sometimes
in my quiet
I disappear
Then (and only then)
I emerge.
* * *
When I take off my clothes
you see my body
When I drop my bullshit
you see my self.
Naked each night
I nestle in the arms of my beloved
No longer me
But us.
* * *
How do I escape this me
I’ve so carefully, completely constructed?
How do I free myself
from my very own (so real, so true)
beliefs, wants and fears?
This grace, this blessing
It only happens without my wish or my work
An instant beyond awareness
Known only in retrospect–
Otherwise it would-again-be just me.
* * *
In meditation (sometimes)
I give up being me (sort of,
for a minute, kind of)
to observe me.
Sometimes it works.
* * *
6/14/07
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