By Julie Nyhus
What I wanted was to move my body
Beyond the frail routine of life
To a place high above
Away from the idea
But I could wait, I learned,
For treatment and time
To maneuver my disease.
Folding it over, splitting it in two
Tilting digits and diagrams
Though I developed a great capacity of mind,
I was fearful of the scraping and scaring.
Of the lengthy symptoms that idled my days,
Of becoming chronically scant
And rolled up tight.
What I wanted was to move my self
Beyond the blended side of misery
Further along the typical
Trail of hope
Far away from the aim
But I learned in waiting
For needles and pills
To decorate my body.
Coaxing remission, inviting release
I am more than a diagnosis