Illness has an odd way
Of ordering affections
sorting priorities

Nausea is illness
But the unsourced kind
it is a warmth
an unpleasant heat

An indication of error
But what?
Is Wrong?
Nausea is the stubborn sick
Refusing to disclose its root

It fills and sloshes
Like a coagulating soup
The only cure is to here it told
“Your mistakes are forgiven”
“Your body will be made new”
“Your grieving is heard”
“I am listening”

Nausea is a stubborn captain
of a leaky ship
O bail my ship
O captain
Make all things new.