Everything is so quiet and so very loud. Each step I take is labored, heavy and uncertain. I haven’t written much at all this year, or submitted or had much published, but today I opened my email to a lovely surprise. Issue 3 of Orange Blossom Review came out yesterday, and I am honored to have one of my poems in its virtual pages, amongst the work of so many talented writers. If you want to take a peek at the issue, you can so here.
The title of this post may be a tad misleading. The best eye appointment would either be Dr. Sarraf telling me it has all been a dream and I don’t actually have RP, or Dr. Sarraf giving me a pill that would cure the RP and completely restore my sight. Given the fact that those two things are pretty unlikely……it was definitely the best eye appointment ever. Continue reading “Best Eye Appointment Ever”
Tomorrow is my annual appointment with the retinal specialist. I used to suffer from at least a week of anxiety and fear leading up to the appointment, but I have been through it so many times, I now start getting anxious about it just the day before. I suppose I am lucky that I only have to go once a year, given that there is no treatment for my disease(that isn’t so lucky), but the day is always long, painful and exhausting. Continue reading “Once a Year”
I read a post this morning from Sightless Musings, that hit me at my core. Please read it.
I was going to write about writing today, about feeling completely inarticulate, but after reading the above mentioned post, I changed course a bit. I am still feeling like a complete bumbler in regard to my writing, but I press on and tell this story (if you can call it that) anyway. Continue reading “The Consequences of Blindness”
I have been away, under the skin of darkness. I intended to bring along pen and paper, do a bit of blood-letting, record my thoughts; instead, I brought a bottle, numbed out and dreamed of becoming someone else. I curled up against the edges of my eyes and saw things I knew were lies, but I didn’t care. I forgot about plotting my escape and let the stillness eat me up.
Continue reading “The Return of Darkness”
I can’t deny it. The day I got this particular acceptance, I cried. I had submitted to Rust + Moth so many times and when the email came in that they had accepted my poem, I was in disbelief. I still am. Rust + Moth, in my opinion, is publishing some of the best contemporary poetry online and in print, and to have my work sit alongside that of so many writers I admire, is an absolute honor. The Autumn issue is incredible, full of poems that have left me breathless and in tears. If you would like to, you can read my poem, here.
Everyone falls. Everyone daydreams and falls into states of preoccupation, falls into the arms of another person, falls to the ground. Can you remember the last time you fell to the ground? I know it happens, but how often? Is it a story you tell about that one time you fell and were so fucking embarrassed? Or maybe you cried? Did you hurt yourself? Were you drunk? There is no judgement here. I have fallen and been embarrassed and cried and hurt myself, and yes, I have been falling down drunk. But, the falls that shake me the most, are the falls that can only be blamed on RP. Continue reading “Everyone Falls”
I linger on the outside of everywhere. I am a skulker, a bone shucker, a fraud. I slip behind curtains, under floorboards, into panes of glass that mute my words. I am awkward and stumble more than I stand tall. I am late to the gathering, last to get the joke, the one in the corner feeling confused. I am hollow, looking for substance, failing. I am fleeting, a pale representation, a liar. I am a nail biter torn to the quick. I am clamor and catastrophe in the flick of a switch. You are my captor, my captivator, my annihilator. You are the steely grip of an unblinking gaze. You are my habit, my protector, you pull the strings. I will always surrender. You will always win.