Healing Myself by Venetia Sjogren (a Poem)

there was no need to wave wands
conjure spells or mix magic potions
I did not languish lupine under pale, full moons
nor speak in mystical tongues
no depressants were dispensed
late night drinking, crying and life-bashing
with friends, was avoided
I did not vacillate between telephoning doctors
and damning them to perdition
nor did I spend nights oscillating between a false bravado
and Ophelia-like vapors
I simply stopped
hating my broken body
with its plaque-laden nerves
one breath
one memory
one cell
at a time
and began
to love
me
~*~
Biography:  Venetia Sjogren is disabled grandmother, who lives with multiple sclerosis and end stage kidney disease, an Afro-Latina and humanist. Her brother was born deaf and her niece has cerebral palsy thus she is acutely aware of the challenges of being (dis)abled. She reads rather indiscriminately as her books range from Sci-Fi to Anthropology. She dislikes bigots, peas, anything hazelnut and okra. I know, I know - she is a flipping screwball.  Her publication credits include Poets Against the War and Howard University’s, The Amistad.

A Hostile Take-over by Venetia Sjogren (a Poem)

I have heard it said that love starts with one's self
my conundrum—what happens when even the most basic
component of one's body commences
a revolution
causing pain, blindness, confusion and paralysis
when bastard neurons hijack all the other better parts
causing mayhem, discontent and disorder
I tell you—it is bad enough to lose beauty, youth and grace,
as one ages
bad enough to lose family, friends and lovers
to accidents and other misfortunes
but when the body attempts its hostile take-over
when your bathroom has become a miniature pharmacopoeia
when neurons mis-fire like an epileptic, drunk
whilst doing ballet around an oak tree,
daubed in blue and howling at the moon, simultaneously
it becomes a battle I tire of fighting
one that I have decided to concede
let the neurons have their vainglorious victory
let them have the spoils—
my broken body
~*~
Biography:  Venetia Sjogren is disabled grandmother, who lives with multiple sclerosis and end stage kidney disease, an Afro-Latina and humanist. Her brother was born deaf and her niece has cerebral palsy thus she is acutely aware of the challenges of being (dis)abled. She reads rather indiscriminately as her books range from Sci-Fi to Anthropology. She dislikes bigots, peas, anything hazelnut and okra. I know, I know - she is a flipping screwball.  Her publication credits include Poets Against the War and Howard University’s, The Amistad.

4 Favorites from Breath & Shadow Fall 2019

Note:  You can click on each title to go.  Also, in the interest of full disclosure, I had a poem published in this magazine years ago.

The fall 2019 edition of Breath & Shadow is another great issue. There was a grandmother phoenix, a relationship brought to its knees by religion, a broken spice bottle as a symbol of something bigger, and more.  You should check it out, if you haven't already.

In no particular order, my four favorite pieces from the issue:

1.  "Drown" by Elizabeth Devine
This short poem is gorgeous... and dark.  It takes on what toxic relationships or the world can demand of us (just my interpretation).  Each image is crisp.

2. Content Warning:  Drug use/Overdose/Suicide
"The Ghosts Who Carry Us" by Elizabeth Devine
A sad and difficult prose piece on addiction, who we lose, and how we carry on.

3.  "You Ask Me Why I Wear Bright Colors" by Jennifer Bradpiece
A poem on the colors associated with different aspects of (chronic) pain.  The end of the poem has quite an impact.

4.  "Masquerading Stranger" by Karen Craig
Multiple sclerosis (referred to as Ms) stalks the narrator.  The personification of the disease and prescribed medications added a nice, compelling tension to the story.