Deep inside, safe and sound;
resurfacing when energy abound:
a different life lost: a new one found.
Grim torture: an invisible prison.
Cruel and confusing; no rhyme: no reason.
Sleeping, while my body commits treason.
Chronic symptoms known only by a few.
Learning to cope with this perplexing view:
so familiar, yet sadly feeling new.
Life is sporadic: we all slip and slide.
Chapters of history missed; but I’ve not died.
Carefully on my way back: full of pride.
I’ve kept afloat with positive thinking:
these painful symptoms are slowly shrinking.
In remission, I’m no longer sinking.
I’ve … I’ve been here before, so many times before:
lessons refreshed with a new hidden law;
relearned, more frightening, heavy and raw.
What is the secret to getting a parole?
What’s good for the body is good for the soul.
My continued good health; that is my goal.
Precious sparkle, deep inside, safe and sound.
Resurfacing when energy abound.
A different life lost; yet another one found.
By Lorraine Close, a performance poet and M.E. Survivor!
This poem has been published in M.E. magazines in the U.K and abroad
New Forest Awakening
A frosty morning with sun cresting the horizon
Vapour rising soft and white.
Air clean and crisp.
A prism of light filters through shrouds of mist
And a sudden blaze of light
spotlights an Autumnal stage.
A robin sings shattering the calm,
whilst leaves drift down
spiralling on wings of the air.
Fir's naked limbs stretch skywards,
their tops bushy with needles
stretching endlessly towards sunlight.
And slash red holly berries herald
a cold winter
in the bright eye squinting sunshine.
By Tina Shaw,
Published in the Bucks Mills Poetry Magazine, Autumn 2018