Yang to my yin, you attack my defenses, hard-wired to protect against hepatitis, Clostridium difficile and any number of God's afflictions. Vigilant even in your latency, your troops spread from bone and lymph to destroy my soldiers of antibodies and white blood cells. You gnaw on epidermis, feast on capillaries and nerves feeding into larger organs — tendon, kidney, liver, brain. Soon, I am sure, you will swallow my soul.
Every morning brings a new battlefield. Puffed up on prednisone, I drowse, immune to most skirmishes. But now you gather at the border of my heart, Capulets to my Montagues, no mere guerilla tactic -- I know, the x-rays confirm. So I shore up my armamentarium of corticosteroids, ibuprofen, Plaquenil, acupuncture to beat back the cells you've suborned and inflamed.
When you claimed the sun as your friend, you almost won. I admit, I mourn the day warming my face while I sat with my morning coffee, the slant of sun through dappled leaves, the buzz of birds and insects. (I do not miss butterflies.)
Then I found my anger and allied with the night. In dark safety, I shovel my holes and children make fun of me. “Werewolf,” they whisper. But I do not dig graves, only cradles, for wolfsbane and moonflower, evening primrose and columbine. When the plants are sunk, I sit on moon-licked grass, swaddled in the earth's loamy must and the flutter of moths, the night noises louder than my howl.
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The cusp of fall puts me in a melancholy place. Inspired by the week 20 52/250 theme 'rivals', my head and heart wended towards my Nana, dead now 8 years after a long battle with lupus, an auutoimmune disease.
The title derives from lupus, which shares the Latin root for wolf, as well as the characteristic butterfly rash of the disease.
Brilliant. I see the effects of the disease everyday and your piece is right on.
Good work.
Thanks Roberto for the read and *. Sorry you see the ravages of lupus daily; I appreciate the validation of my portrayal. Peace...
Exquisitely written, Linda. Nice.
"I admit, I mourn the day warming my face while I sat with my morning coffee, the slant of sun through dappled leaves, the buzz of birds and insects. (I do not miss butterflies.)"
This is a good piece of work, Linda.
The piece moves the reader - me, at any rate - in such a slow and dark way: "Then I found my anger and allied with the night. In dark safety, I shovel my holes and children make fun of me. “Werewolf,” they whisper. But I do not dig graves, only cradles, for wolfsbane and moonflower, evening primrose and columbine."
It taks hold. Well written. Like this a great deal. Great piece for the challenge.
Susan, thanks for the kind words and fav -- much appreciated! Peace...
Sam, your generous comments gladdens my heart -- very much. Thank you, and peace...
Well written and moving, Linda!
I love your phrasing, the pace and tone of this, in particular, this line struck me: "In dark safety, I shovel my holes..." *
Agree with Sam. This piece takes hold of you. Great final verse.
Thanks Christian, Julie, and Jack for reading/commenting/faving -- much appreciated!
Julie, I struggled with that line, how to get at the night being a haven -- glad it resonated. Peace...
Just found this, Linda. Big plus from me.
Matt, thanks! You're tough to please ;^)
Peace...
You've made dark magic and dark beauty from an unlikely source. Well done.
"When the plants are sunk, I sit on moon-licked grass, swaddled in the earth's loamy must and the flutter of moths, the night noises louder than my howl"
Bravo.
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'Dark magic and dark beauty' -- thanks Carol! I'll savor your kind words all day. Peace...
Bill, a bravo from you is like winning the lotto. Thanks for your kind words and star. Peace...
So gorgeous in phrasing and image. It's dark and beautiful. I really like the way it moves from the details of the disease to the details of surviving. I love the contrast of the nana allying with the sun and you allying with the night. And the whole last paragraph, and that last line is one of the best:
"When the plants are sunk, I sit on moon-licked grass, swaddled in the earth's loamy must and the flutter of moths, the night noises louder than my howl."
Wonderful writing, Linda!
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Thanks Michelle -- your comment leaves a huge smile on my face. Peace...
My gosh, Linda, this is phenomenal. Such a fine portrayal of this disease, and all the battles waged within and the enemies from the internal and external. Good flipped to bad, perfectly drawn. You should submit this to one of those medical-minded literary journals.
Ah Lou, your lovely comment comes on a rejection of another story sent late Friday night (why do editors send out bad news on Fridays?), so thank you, thank you, and thank you. Your words always cheer. Peace...
Linda this was so incredibly gorgeous, I think perhaps one of your very best. I got chills (literally) reading this. The mix of medical and poetic metaphor, well, the result is simply stunning
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Moving story. I like "When the plants are sunk, I sit on moon-licked grass, swaddled in the earth's loamy must and the flutter of moths, the night noises louder than my howl."
Susan, thanks so much for the generous reaction and the star. Yippee! peace...
Matt, knowing you liked that last line pleases me no end -- I struggled and struggled with getting it 'just right'. Thanks! And peace...
..When the plants are sunk, I sit on moon-licked grass, swaddled in the earth's loamy must and the flutter of moths, the night noises louder than my howl..beautiful writing that stays alive.
DP, thank YOU so much for reading and commenting and faving! Peace...
I love to see you use your linguistic expertise (names of drugs and diseases) for poetic purposes. This is deep and so very beautiful.
Thank you my friend :^) For taking time to read and comment. And the star, of course. Peace...
So many great lines! My favorite: "When you claimed the sun as your friend, you almost won." But, not, maybe it's "Then I found my anger and allied with the night."
Thanks Beate! Glad you liked my 'empowering' lines. We like girls who fight! Peace...
This is excellent, gorgeously written. Linda, sorry about your nana. My aunt died too young (at 59) of lupus and my brother has MS. The autoimmune diseases are so cruel. Great writing on the theme here.
This brought tears to my eyes. So much emotion, so beautiful! Wow. Thank you for sharing it.
Kathy, thanks so much for reading and commenting -- just found this. Lupus. MS. Rheumatoid. All auto-immune diseases rampant in my family. Peace...
Jen, thank you so much for reading. Peace...