The steady invisible workings of our bodies are mysteries, with only a sense that ‘something’s amiss’.
Depending on a physician
to begin a hunt for
the misgivings we have,
there are questions to ask
with answers that make
no sense in the twinges of pain.
When we are home,
far away from medical teams,
we become
who we are inside our homes.
Without directions,
we must believe in ourselves.
without asking our spirit to pause,
to breath slowly and steadily,
for that moment,
that day and time
is ours to remember
the heart and soul
that we have become:
scars and all.
“The future gets no say in who we are.”
~ Buddy Wakefield, poet
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