We’ve never had all the answers. The why—the how come—the where—the what’s next?
I’d come to terms with not driving. Swore not to drink again, that evil partly to blame for bringing me to where I am today.
The stressors—my life choices. Terrible—horrible—bad decisions when faced with a fork in the road, led down the wrong path and I spiraled down, slid out of control lost my way and what I stood for.
If I had stayed on the higher trail; Made peace with my life maybe, could I have held on?
Life flows throughout the body, as the heart does with blood, and the water nourishes the organs, skin, and eyes. But the brain—a special space—dark and mysterious, the lifeline that drives me insane, is missing the bottle cap to keep the fizz from spewing out.
I’d be lying if I wasn’t anxious or frightened—scared of what is to come—of what could be when trudging along — dragging myself without any support.
No cane or an arm to hang onto, to grasp should I stumble or fall.
I’ve been left to my defences—to look after myself – become the cane – use my arms to lift and carry me through.
Up until three years ago—when my world fell apart.
*Part of Poems while at Foothills collection