Fibromyalgia


Hands like clay, she slumps

some mornings like a bird
left too long asleep in the rain:
her pain comes and goes.

When the dull pattern
of storms lightens
she flies through the hours,
flexes her fingers
above the bright land
but even a sparrow knows
how much the rain
can narrow a day’s flight.

Often, before patience
takes hold, she flaps
her arms wildly
yet never lifts up.

This is when
she flutters quietly,
hands strapped
beneath twisted sheets,
wings fettered
beneath the weight
of too much clay.

© 2006 Christine Klocek-Lim

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Fibromyalgia

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s