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Bekah Halle Apr 2020
Eight years ago, foggily I awoke from a 40-day deep, deep deep, sleep,

Seven times I've adorned the sackcloth, which may continue seventy times seven in acceptance of my new reality.

Six years of gratitude directed my heavy heart and thoughts, to reframe and good perspective keep.

Five rehabilitation programs, cross country, helped regain vital functionality, to commence

Four years of study, processing grief, re-skill, and grow more confidently, despite my

Three-second memory retention, slowly, but surely, my amazing brain rewired grey space. My

Two eyes view life in fragments hoping to be restored, by the

One Almighty God, who has blessed me with life; I stand in awe of His grace.
This is a tribute to my recovery journey from a stroke and coma. I will be forever grateful for big and small moments and experiences of healing.
Bekah Halle Dec 2023
See the world distinctly?
Pearls?
A kaleidoscope of memories?
Or lucidly look differently?
A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality?
New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions,
Compelling new experiences: horizons.
Releasing shame; distorted distractions.
Embracing imperfections, peccadillos,
Layers of realities,
Depths, and
Rationalities.
Diversely.
Maturely.
David Hilburn Mar 2023
Theory of a dread
Music in the naked thought
For more, than a kind thank you ahead
Where the cloth is worn, with a purposed climate to rot?

Music with a proud name...
Torrid whole kindred, and a dole of lead
In meager how, the gift of nothing shame?
Reasons and similar essence to rise, and fall with need...

Mercy for a minstrel of heirs?
Taken to lies and school's of thought...
Sweet avarice, do we know you one step more?
Like a bird of war, we see the tried and true, became not...

Them said, the tone of your voice is a sultry longing...
Strength and totals of sincerity, to show you a vaunted
Gold, and the many of sitting for a though, a song
Of guided misery, the stare of unison that joy meant...

A hat full of sunshine, is a waiting lover...?
Known for mutual live and lets give the moment...
With but a song to share, are we a sallow order to those?
With a realm to touch and mendacity in the eaves, is again a lament...?

The shyness of veracity, in your hand for ourselves?
That knew the day of your haunt of justice, wantonness
Courage in the affront of thunderous drama, to acquire a force
Of silence and reason in a marvel of distance, as if the name of our blessing...?

A halting dream with shall to swallow, and the instinct...
Of curiosity with a bridge to essential mere, the times are a changing covenant...?
With the shadow of youth, the honor of what was a method succinct...
Tales of sour chance in the good nature of fear, today is a lovers love...?
Contrary and stone deaf in love?, try a spaghetti on a table with God (come from the war we made with prayers demonstration to youth) Beth, we found the socks you left in the religion...
Anais Vionet Aug 2022
I talked with my parents this morning (they’re in a time zone that’s 6 hours ahead). I’ll be off, back to school, before they get back. They sound very tired, certainly tireder than they did a month ago.

They’re working with “Doctors Without Borders” somewhere in Poland. We have a fiction between us, that they haven’t been in a war zone for the last couple of months, spending 16 (18?) hours a day, in ineffable, meatball surgery - sewing pieces of people back together.

Although our conversation topics are no more important than soap bubbles, they evoke a kaleidoscope of emotions (in me), our mutual deceptions as fragile as eggshells.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Ineffable: something indescribable or unspeakable.

Meatball surgery = quick, lifesaving, emergency-surgery so patients may initially survive.
Steve Page Apr 2022
My life, at this stage,
had worn paper thin
- clipped to a board, hung
at my feet, open to review
with scant reference
to the source material.

My body had been fragmented,
parts selected and cut -
the changes tracked
for future reference.

And there were end notes
(if you were interested).

I was saved for later.
Thanks to poet Tamar Yoseloff who prompted the imagery - see her collection: The Black Place.
Eric Feb 2021
I°°° want°°° my°°° ******°°° to°°° be°°° a°°° mystery°°°
I°°° want°°° a°°° Grove°°° with°°° trees°°°,
Standing°°° tall°°° as°°° can°°° be°°° .
There°°° in°°° the°°° distance°°° in°°° between°°°,
All°°° those°°° trees°°° shadows°°° ,
What°°° lies°°° beneath°°° .
My°°° body°°° layed°°° to°°° rest°°° apon°°° some°°° leaves.°°°
Scene°°° of°°° a°°° suicidal°°° heart°°° surgery°°° .
Knife°°° at°°° hand,°°° looking°°° at°°° the°°° deep°°° cut°°° seems°°°
Pool°°° of°°° blood°°° nobody°°° would°°° want°°° to°°° see °°°.
Stood°°° behind°°° my°°° soulless°°° body°°° .
Lift°°° my°°° own°°° hands ,°°°
Knife°°° cutting°°° softly.°°°
Pulling°°° back°°° the°°° ribs°°° and°°° skin °°°.
Not°°° to°°° find°°° a°°° heart ,°°° just°°° emptiness°°° within°°°.
Looking°°° at°°° the°°° way°°° I°°° laid°°° , how°°° was°°° I°°° to°°° late ?°°°
This°°° took°°° time°°° and°°° pain°°° .
I'm°°° sorry°°° ...
Really°°° no°°° signs°°° of°°° struggle°°° around°°° the°°° scene°°°.
Was°°° it°°° a°°° ******? ,°°° I°°° would°°° say°°° likely°°°.
Why°°° would°°° you°°° say°°° that?,°°° is°°° that°°° what°°° you°°° see°°°.
Yes°°° because°°° it's°°° impossible°°° to°°° do°°° a°°° open°°° heart°°° surgery°°°.
On°°° one's°°° self , °°°°you'd°°° have°°° to°°° be°°° mentally°°° crazy°°° .
I°°° get°°° what°°° your°°° saying,°°° it's°°° just°°° hard°°° to°°° believe°°° .
Walking°°° away°°° from°°° myself ,°°° kinda°°° feeling°°° relieved°°°.
Did°°° I°°° do°°° it ?°°° Did°°° I°°° clean°°° enough°°° of°°° the°°° scene°°°.
And°°° where°°° did°°° I°°° put°°° that°°° heart? ,°°° it°°° must°°° not°°° be°°° seen°°°.
Thoughts°°° dancing°°° in°°° my°°° mind ,°°° creating°°° art ,°°°
Within°°° my°°° soulless°°° body ,°°° this°°° gots°°° to°°° be°°° a°°° dream°°°.
But°°° One°°° thought°°° stuck°°° to°°° me ,°°°
I°°° wanted°°° my°°° ******°°° to°°° be°° a°°° mystery .°°°
I°°° wanted°°° groves ,°°° with°°° lots°°° of°°° trees°°° .
Just°°° standing°°° tall°°° and°°° alone°°° like°°° me°°°.
And°°° there°°° in°°° the°°° distance°°°  an°°° in°°° between°°°.
Now°°° forever°°° my°°° shadow°°° lies°°° beneath°°° me°°°.
My°°° body°°° laid°°° to°°° rest°°° apon°°° soft°°° leaves°°° .
A°°° scene°°° of°°° a°°° suicidal°°° heart°°° surgery°°°.
Don't judge over thoughts and dreams
Corbyn Nov 2020
205 days until I’m free
the biggest weight lifted off my chest
literally

where’s my reflection?
the mirror doesn’t show it

frightening
is the sight of my naked flesh

exhaustion has become too familiar
each day feels like eternity

burying my body in clothes way too big
it brings some comfort

some
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