Friday, December 27, 2019

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
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.

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