Stone and Fog – A Poem

I look out

at the world

from inside of

a brain fog.

It is a

storm that casts

its shadow on

everything I see.

I try to

speak but my

tongue doesn’t move

the right way.

Words are like

stones that fall

from my mouth,

uncoordinated and heavy.

I try to

gather them as

they fall and

arrange them in

some semblance of

order. I look

down into my

hands to see

the stones that

have fallen but

the fog is

heavy and they

don’t make sense:

I an many than me symposium. I an younger than I knew.

I let more

words fall from

my mouth and

catch them. I

can feel their

warmth and they

pulse with unsaid

meaning. I try

to arrange them

in some order:

I an many than me symptoms. I am younger than I know.

The right words

pulse in different

colours inside my

mind, shining through

the fog. I

merely have to

get my lips

to say the

right ones. I

try once more,

pronouncing my words

slowly, trying to

speak past the fog.

It takes all

of my effort

to do so:

I am more than my symptoms. I am stronger than I know.

When the right

words are uttered,

they act like

a spell that

chases away the

fog. It dissipates

with a wooshing

sound that leaves

me breathless for

a moment. The

fog will be

back, I know

this. However, I

will be ready.