A downward spiral.
The speed is akin to an uncontrolled
plunge into a medical Sunken Place.
We are a blues people.
We speak sun-words.
We didn’t ask for this.
We didn’t ask for this.
The Most High is too kind
to put his children in a condition,
too kind to put His lesser gods in
a fight to merely exist with
infections,
bacteria,
incessant beeps
in the night:
machines designed to keep
the body cool.
We are a blues people.
We speak sun-words.
We didn’t ask for this.
We didn’t ask for this.
I observe her struggle to breathe.
Her cough scares me, but the nurse
says this is progress.
This is a road to a solution,
to health,
to wellness.
My baby is a fighter.
My baby is a dreamer.
She’s equipped to slay beasts.