Once I swam with brilliant fishes
In overcrowded civic ponds,
And my intellect was gleaming
As I showed it out at will.

But I can’t do that anymore.
My access to myself is gone.
I can’t retrieve the words I need
To navigate my way across
The torrent that is called a stroke.

Helpless creature on the bank,
Now I pitifully flop and
Gasp for words that may not come.
No hope of swimming any more.

No hope for much of anything
But numbness and despair
Tortured by the memory
Of flashing through the water.
      ljm