91
Sand specks suspended
In still spring air; what's unseen
Is more dangerous.
92
The years full circle
Rounds back to the start, bringing
Cake, cards and much love.
93
40 is fabulous!
Friends and family
From near and far
New and old
Surround me
With their love
Whether they are with me
Or faraway, they reach me
With their kindness
I can not express
How grateful and blessed I am
To have such wonderful
People in my life.
Thank you!
94
Migraine
Sparked by stress
Fanned by excitement
Bright swirling disco lights
As I spin around the dance floor
Feeling giddy and strange
Leave early walking home in a fog
Like metallic hairspray
Sticking to the inside of my eyes
Waking at 2 and then 4 AM
Head prickling and crackling
Before wham! The white hot searing pain
My left eye aflame
My whole body nauseated and rotten
For hours and the aftermath for days
Queasiness, soft headed and spaced out.
Migraine I hate you.
95
Medusa
The last tendrils of migraine
Snake about my head
Translucent shreds of pain
Twist and fizzle out like smoke
Anxiety creeps into my belly
Like smoke, now rising into my lungs
Choking my veins with ash
Sluggish and silting up my body.
This toxic combination of migraine and fear
Is turning me to stone from the inside out.
96
Watering can in hand
I move around the garden
Pausing at every plant
An evening ritual
Of garden ablutions
Meditating on each flower
Each bud and branch
Cataloging in my head
The vibrancy bursting
From border and pots
Bringing me joy
And teeming with life.
97
Thoughts unravel
Fold about my feet
Like loosened silk
Discarded, detached
Leaving behind clean skin
But still nothing solid
Nothing to get hold of
Just vagaries and skimpy detail.
98
Immobilised thumb
Brings frustration but less pain;
Rest never easy
99
Saturday night
Remains of a takeaway congeal on a plate
Bubbles escape from a glass of coke
Leaving behind flat warm syrup
Quizzes and straight to video movies
Flicker across the box
As drunks lurch home along London Road
Somewhere through the darkness
A blackbird sings as if the sun has risen.
100
I learnt to bite my tongue
To pause and not bulldoze in
However much I wanted
To Maggie Thatcher them with my hands
Or handbag, beat them into submission;
They'd never let me win on my own terms
They'd make me be the bossy boots
The harpy at the meeting table
Unreasonable and unnatural
So I learnt to bite my tongue
And win the battle in other ways
Using guile and cunning,
It doesn't suit my impatience
But I had to choose when to fight
To win the war and not be forced
To play the rules that disadvantaged me.
Yet deep down I feel like I've let
Other women and myself down!
Why shouldn't my words be weighed
By their merit rather than by my gender?
