treat
This is the final poem in my Falling Angels Dream Poetry series.
Some people say there are
Angels among us
I have faith in birds
I search for a nest
Hummingbird nest
the size of a nut
tiny, lined with spiderwebs
I love the herons too
great blue heron
flying lands in a tree
above me
I look through my mechanical eye
zoom in click click
and there is another
at the tree top
two in a tree
I move around
and there – one drops down
one flies
I am not distracted
a nest
a six foot nest
blessed
I move away gently

I wander back by the tree
gently
in the morning
in the evening
not one
not two
two in this tree
two in that
one in another
as many as five in a tree
six foot wing spans
a rookery of winged beings
angels among us
and why would we think
they would look like us?

the problem with angels
is that they aren’t grey
nor do they have color
they are black
or white
sort of boring, really
pick one side
good or evil
night or day
male or female
I would rather be fluid
I want to be able to transform
liquid to solid
solid to gas
gas to solid
gas to liquid
flow around things
seep into the earth
always always
return to the sea
keep your wings
project black or white
as you choose
on me
while I flick water at you
and go for a swim
_____________________
written 2014
Today is PANS/PANDAS awareness day. I wrote this a couple weeks ago.
___________________________________
No pandas
I don’t have PANDAS because in the United States we barely believe in it in children and we don’t at all in adults.
I don’t have PANDAS because even though one psychiatrist said I did, he retired, and the next one says I don’t. Then not sure then no. They don’t agree.
I don’t have PANDAS because my primary care doctor won’t read the guidelines even after I have been her patient for seven years.
I don’t have PANDAS because my pulmonologist has never heard of it.
I don’t have PANDAS because it would be a lot easier to put me on a mood stabilizer to shut me up than listen to me.
I don’t have PANDAS because I am labelled difficult because I am afraid to take a mood stabilizer because I do not get a fever or a white count so my main symptom of infection is that other doctors think that I am manic though I am hypoxic and short of breath. They want to fix my mood while I want to not die of pneumonia, so our goals are at odds.
I don’t have PANDAS because I am a doctor and if I had PANDAS my fellow local doctors would feel guilty that they have told each other that I am bipolar and manic for the last 18 years and have shunned me at the county medical meetings and won’t even send me the invitations, except for the one that forwards them. He says he has given them my email and he doesn’t understand why they don’t send me the invitations.
I don’t have PANDAS because Seattle Children’s doesn’t allow the Cunningham Panel to be drawn and they say there is not enough evidence yet.
I don’t have PANDAS because I can’t afford to pay $925 on my own for the Cunningham Panel and anyhow my antibody level is back to whatever is my new baseline, higher than before no doubt.
I don’t have PANDAS because the other doctors are frightened: if I have PANDAS then who else does and if I have chronic fatigue caused by hypoxia and fibromyalgia and it’s related to PANDAS then who else would they have to test and neuropsychiatric is a whole different thing from psychiatric and we swear that we don’t know what causes chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia.
I don’t have PANDAS because I am an adult who lives in the US though if I was in Canada or Europe I could in fact have PANDAS.
I don’t have PANDAS because in the United States we barely believe in it in children and we don’t at all in adults.
Poem: finally.
I am growing
My shell hurts
It hurts it hurts!
I cannot shed it
I try and try and try
I fight
I seek allies and help
I fight
One year, two years, nearly three
I’m free
My shell suddenly releases and slides off
I can feel my soft body expand
To my real size
Bigger
Joy!
Oh!
They’re attacking!
Why why!
My brothers! My sisters!
No!
Your claws hurt!
They are cutting me
Ow ow stop why!
I run
Scuttle sideways
Soft and clumsy
Hide
In the mud
Why why?
Oh, my wounds ache
Stabbed
By multiple claws
Deepest pain
In my heart
At this betrayal.
I hide
I sit
I think
It was so hard
To shed my shell
Why would they attack?
Oh!
Their shells hurt too!
Their words
They were grabbing me
To try to see how I’d shed my shell
They were desperate
Oh they must be in such pain!
Can I forgive them?
Do they know not what they do?
I hide
I sit
I think
I heal
My shell is strong now
I am bigger
I will go forth
And see who is trying to shed their shell
I will try to protect the newly molted.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crow.
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