 |
 |
^^^^^^GREETINGS FROM^^^^^^^^^^ Ivan Suzman 47/10 [log in to unmask] Portland, Maine land of lighthouses 53 deg. F meteor showers *********************************************************** Dear Phil, THANK YOU for your beautiful poetry. I am printing it out to share with my caregivers and friends later this morning. You've certainly given all of us a great gift. The poem VOICES sent chills of recognition right through me! IVAN On Thu, 14 Aug 1997 18:58:04 -0400 Philip McCrillis <[log in to unmask]> writes: >Hi! I'm new to this network. I'm enjoying reading all the >correspondence. > I wrote a couple of poems about my PD experience. I thought I would >share >them. Not literary classics, but some of you might find them >interesting. > >Phil McCrillis > >VOICES >The voices tell me "Wait, >Don't try that yet." >Or they say >"Maybe you can't" >Or ask >"Do you know how?" >And when I listen to them, >and their voice is soft and kind, >my steps begin to hesitate into that familiar shuffle >where my feet do not want to go forward >even though they know very well how >after all these years. > >And clothes, >especially socks, >seem not to want to come on my body >because my hands do not know how to call them >And I seem to forget how to turn over in bed, >how to start that task >Even signing my very familiar name >has a how-to-start question attached >and as I type my fingers do not seem to want to get to the keys. >And I sink into the voices > >But I have learned not to listen to the voices, >at least most of the time. >Their quiet gentle invitation to be crippled >Because, make no mistake, >that is what they want >They are not friends hoping I will rest >Soothing me when I am stressed >They are the enemy >Who want me to slip into death >Not real death, >that would be all right >But fearful, hesitant death >That takes life away just as surely , >But with no promise of any kind of heaven >They would love me into dull-eyed shuffling existence >If they could > >But they cannot >I will not die their funny death for them >I will live boldly in spite of them >I will not fear life for them >I will live it for me and those I love. > >A BAD DAY >This funny sickness has me again in its grip. >It does not make me bleed but rather twitch >It does not give me pain but rather shakes >It shakes and twitches me so I cannot sleep >It reminds me quickly if I have not exercised >When I think the fork won't tremble it does >But not when I think it will ...strange! >It is like it exists on its own >causing my body to betray itself >to me >and to the others >who pity while I burn with annoyance and embarrassment > >Sometimes it is all right >Sometimes it is not >And today is one of those >My body annoying me with its insistence and drumming >Tensing on its own >Making me feel tense when I am not >Reminding me of its long term grinding presence >That will never go away >Until I leave it >to go away. > >It is true that shit happens >It is true that I am learning from it all >It is true that I am little impeded >In my journey, wherever I am going >But today I'd rather walk there than shuffle >I'd rather have handshakes than hands shake >I favor eating the things on my fork or spoon >Rather than spraying them on myself or the room >Sleep seems preferable to twitching >All in all, Lord, I think it, >In the words of the Bard, >Sucks! >