So What Do I Love Now?

When I was healthier, pre-illness, I trusted my body to do what I asked. I hiked my gear in and out with my trusty dog Mr.B. I worked out. I volunteered. I never accepted help- which drove my husband crazy. I was fit strong. Then whack. ME hit hard.

Next 5 years in bed. Couldn’t think straight, focus, get downstairs. Shortly, it was hell. I found the right med combination for me and the last year I’ve been slowly getting my life back. As in grocery shopping. As in spending time with friends. Little things I overlooked when I was running around conquering life. This is not what I look like today. 5 years in bed was rough on me. But I walked through hell for over 8 years and got my smile back. I see this picture which used to bring me despair- and now see hope. Hope for a life back in nature, back in the world, back on my feet hiking in my gear. But today is not this day. It may be again because exists the opportunity to grow– and for that I am eternally grateful. Right now I love what tomorrow will be, I love writing as always, I love second chances and I believe in all of them with all my heart.

Running Thunder Hands

— my original WordPress site from way back when I was healthier. It’s tai chi heavy and I hope to be able to revive it again. Have a peek just for fun.

Runningthunderhands.wordpress.com

Or search for “runningthunderhands” in the search box under sites. High fives and fist bumps.

The Hunger

One more word from thee
Before the night is full
And I shall rest in writing prose
The teasing light dips ever lower
And to my bright spot I can’t help but glower
For it shrinks too as night fills black
A moon halving quartering gone slack
Ah, but new days bring happy song
Of all the birds in all the throng
But
One more word from thee…

Ill Decision

Crafted my grave from words again
A friendship for the fallow field
Ravens pick over my cast bones
Fortune reads, “not well”
Which to believe
I’ve laid my body down
Cast my die
Played my hand
All is not well
But
Tomorrow I will rise again
Turn my back to the field
And see where walking wills me
Whether a fresh grave
Or a tired life
I choose
To rise again
Pick a path
March my ragged body North
West