Before the spinning,
out of control,
the shattered glass flying,
and my brain rolling upside-down…
I’d set an alarm
to wake myself from dreaming,
splash water on my face, and
throw on my fashion of the day,
as I downed dripped coffee,
and dash into the frenzied machinations
of the weekly blur of the marketplace.
But, that ordinary day,
bathed in beguiling sunshine,
had dissolved into clumps of uprooted grass,
that flew past my crumbling windshield,
hypnotizing my psyche.
Not a mark was on me.
worlds had collided.
Where I had entered, carefree and laughing,
I stumbled out, stunned,
scraping soft skin on razor-sharp glass,
blood dripping, unnoticed, onto the green grass.
My sole comfort: a sign proclaiming mutely,
across the highway, in front of a little church,
“Jesus. The Way. The Truth. The Life.”
In a collision with catastrophe,
I had emerged alive.
Later, I slept, until
burning liquid pain began pouring out the back of my brain.
With no such thing as house calls anymore,
my only option was
to careen over hellish highways, for..
Medications. Tests. Surgeries. More meds.
Then, it was 9/11,
and I watched
dissolved into years.
Tears stopped falling…
an empty chasm remained.
The sticking doors and windows of my silent house
arrested me with their stubbornness,
having to be shoved open by force,
due to a lacking of use.
Countless mornings were spent,
with curtains drawn, shunning the light.
Cobwebs hung, mocking me
the blanket of dark and silence
enveloped me like an ethereal shroud,
as I wandered from room to room,
while my mind shouted at me to awaken.
this ordinary day,
I caught a glimpse of sunshine,
first silent, then,
through trill of birds
and chortles of squirrels,
all oblivious to my morosity.
I leaned, lethargically,
toward the dewy windowpane,
resting my head
against the cool solidity of the thin glass,
the self-imposed prison wall,
that kept me safe
from unexpected harm.
One little bushytail stopped his furious scratching
amidst the fiery flush of fallen fall leaves.
He stared, unblinking, at me,
for but a moment.
Then, he bounded, uncaring, on his merry way.
But, the unmistakable twinkle
of that beady eye
sparked an ember deep
that I thought had been extinguished
by the torrents of tears, over the years,
or had surely been smothered
by the ashes,
of all that remained
that had been lost.
Suddenly, the sun had sound,
the light had movement,
and my soul, long silent,
began to sing.
With renewed strength,
I threw open the window,
scattering the chorus of a dozen birds,
and felt the warm sunshine
mingled with the crisp breeze
of a new day…
a day in which, I would dress myself,
and call a friend,
and drive to meet her,
to converse over coffee
about how nice it is
to be alive.
Copyright 2015 Regina Plimpton Quinn