Out of the blue a seizure seems to come,
no warning, not a word it’s at the door.
My words are stolen and my voice goes numb,
and knowing my own name is such a chore.
I wonder why the nurse keeps asking me
to tell her what the date is or my age.
Through fog my punctured brain now forms a plea,
although I’ve no idea how to gauge
if anyone can hear. Locked into blank
and empty spaces, neurons whirl and blink
in storms that darken light like some mean prank.
I drop beneath my consciousness, strange brink
where nothing I might do can make my brain
complete. I wait, instead, for healing rain.
Posted by Marni Graff on 02/10/2013 at 11:31 am
Captures that distorted feeling so well.