I spent so much time,

It feels,

Wrestling with my existence 

And contemplating The End

Not as a dramatic swan dive

To go out in a blaze of glory

“Only the good die young”

And “What a tragedy…”

But a desperate prayer

To an end of tortuous hopelessness

Which, if you’ve never felt its pull, 

May sound quite melodramatic,

But is every bit as excruciating 

As unending physical pain –

Maybe more so –

As there is no “boo boo,”

No bleeding wound,

No fever for which you can chew

An oddly flavored orange children’s aspirin

And apply cold compresses, 

Push fluids and insist on bedrest…

Yet it made me bedridden,

Gave me a metaphorical fever,

I took medicine,

Consulted the experts…

Peace only came

When I was in a semblance of safety

Having already bottomed out,

And I stopped trying to be

The woman I thought I was “supposed” to be,

Instead nurturing the woman I have always been


So now, in contemplating my mortality,

I think I shall feel peace

If my tribe knows I love them,

My students recall some lessons,

My clients can say I gave some comfort,

And I’ve left the world

A little paintier, 

A little more clued in

To bipolarity,

Than before I came into

My Self


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