#allergies - Hello Poetry

By Cynthia Firtik High up in my turret The briared thorns are no longer a hindrance But a welcome protection No false suitors hang moldering within the crimson blooms Impaled time and again by the vicious thorns In these ghastly frightening days, Time and again the thorns have retreated Allowing the morning doves to perch atop the balcony railing, cooing Or letting me out surreptitiously on my timid forays out for food and medicine I see shadows of death in tentative smiles Anger and fright when the six foot barrier is breached Sideways glances search for a reason to flee. A cough. A sniffle. A sneeze. Each panic inducing symptom the bane of my spring existence. Should I wear a placard? I'm allergic. Not contagious. Or maybe a scarlet letter A would suffice I do my best not to linger over-long Never knowing when a dreaded sniffle will manifest, despite all the pills and sprays. And don't get me started on the wheezing from the pneumonia I had in January. Don't walk too fast or ascend stairs too quickly. A few missteps and I sound like a dying bagpipe. I chant in my mind, "Take it slow and remember to breathe." Safely back in my sanctuary, blessing the day and all it has manifested. Thanking my early years and my adaptation to solitude. Some would call the briared thorns a manifestation of my illness Depression appearing as the blood red blooms And the darker things, the nasty hooky thorns And of the false princes? Parts of me that never breached the core. So I sit here in enforced solitude, my illness wrapped around me Keeping me safe, contrarily enough By the very habit that once inspired its inception: isolation.

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Nov 2, 2025

Nov 2, 2025 at 8:45 PM UTC

Zephyrschild

A note from solitude

By Cynthia Firtik High up in my turret The briared thorns are no longer a hindrance But a welcome protection No false suitors hang moldering within the crimson blooms Impaled time and again by the vicious thorns In these ghastly frightening days, Time and again the thorns have retreated Allowing the morning doves to perch atop the balcony railing, cooing Or letting me out surreptitiously on my timid forays out for food and medicine I see shadows of death in tentative smiles Anger and fright when the six foot barrier is breached Sideways glances search for a reason to flee. A cough. A sniffle. A sneeze. Each panic inducing symptom the bane of my spring existence. Should I wear a placard? I'm allergic. Not contagious. Or maybe a scarlet letter A would suffice I do my best not to linger over-long Never knowing when a dreaded sniffle will manifest, despite all the pills and sprays. And don't get me started on the wheezing from the pneumonia I had in January. Don't walk too fast or ascend stairs too quickly. A few missteps and I sound like a dying bagpipe. I chant in my mind, "Take it slow and remember to breathe." Safely back in my sanctuary, blessing the day and all it has manifested. Thanking my early years and my adaptation to solitude. Some would call the briared thorns a manifestation of my illness Depression appearing as the blood red blooms And the darker things, the nasty hooky thorns And of the false princes? Parts of me that never breached the core. So I sit here in enforced solitude, my illness wrapped around me Keeping me safe, contrarily enough By the very habit that once inspired its inception: isolation.