january – Thistle Thoughts

Thanataphobic

they tell me I’m still too young,
but I know the darkness doesn’t
discriminate

Those perfect pearls imprint
an enlightened message
on my fruit-thin flesh

I pick scabs in layers
to know exactly what being an
obstacle to your own healing
looks like

born a heavenly body
not of her own

As if the body didn’t have enough foreign invaders to fight off.

I’m awake
for five hours before I feel
the grinding of clouds
into my bones

I fought for doctors to listen to me.
To believe me.

My poor husband is in the hospital…

…like my own temple,
withering away
over many a day…

Entwined branches of
birches in the distance
are guardians of
the white fields