Of Needles, Pills and Spoons – A Poem

* This poem is dedicated to Cait, who is one of the strongest people I know. 🙂

 

Every day starts the same.

I take my injection and imagine

that it is filled with light

instead of medication.

I look at the clear liquid

and try to see sparkles within.

As the needle enters my skin,

I picture it filling my body

with the sweetest of songs,

a lilting melody that is left over

from my dreams the night before.

When that is done, I take out

my pill case. Inside are a multitude

of pills that I take each day.

I look down at the multi-coloured shapes

and, as I take each one,

I look at them not as more mediation,

but magic given form and shape.

As each one slides down my throat,

it releases its magic inside of me,

filling me so full with glitter dust

that it has no choice but

to shine out from me.

Then I look at the jar on the counter.

It is filled with the number of spoons

that I get that day. The number can

increase or decrease, depending on

how strongly the sparkle filled injection

and the magic pills are working,

how strong my body is, or how strong

the symptoms are that reside within me.

Sometimes, there are seven or eight,

other times, there are only three or four.

A few times there have been ten or eleven.

Each spoon is a different shape;

some are smooth and shiny while others

are heavy antiques, blackened and waiting

for my fingers to clean them until

they can shine once more.

I put a spoon aside for each task

that I have to do that day.

When I am out of spoons,

I know it is time to rest, to recharge, to regroup.

I am thankful for my life

of needles, pills and spoons.

I have had to learn the hard way

that every day is a new journey

and a chance to start again.

A chance to be grateful and thankful.

Every night, when I go to sleep,

I wonder how many spoons I will get

the next morning after I take my needle and pills.

When I finally do fall asleep,

it is to a soft, lilting melody

that I can only hear in my dreams.