May 4, 2015
The flu bug or something like it hit our house last week. My son announced it's presence at 2:30 Wednesday morning. After two stays in the emergency ward, we finally got to come home. I thought I was in the home stretch and then I felt the bug's dizzying grip. After resting two days, the first of which I was in and out of dreamy sleep, I was becoming very sick of the television for company so I decided to pick up pen and paper and see where my woozy head went -a little bit heavy, but life problems have a way of floating into one big murk when your head and body feel like they're made of lead.
And so the fugue goes on and on,
Round and round I go,
Spinning, falling, lost in snow.
Heady whirls, drifting swirls,
Dreaming pinwheels and paper cranes.
Pounding, pulsing and then it wanes.
Heavy sand, thickening mud
Here comes the flood.
Wash of hope, wretching wild
Toppled, turvy, trending child
Torrents like rain on tin,
My head’s a spin,
Clamour, breaking, bashing din.
Turbulent gust of autumn wind,
Howling, grasping, groping mad,
Smashing, dashing, crashing sad,
Chilling, shaking, rattling shiver.
Bent, broken on tattered wings,
Fail to deliver.
Getting harder and harder
To continue to sing,
Try.
Mount the chorus to the heights,
Fall far short for lack of might.
Raise a frantic voice against the storm.
Subtle was the melody once while time was still.
Lullabies and whispers,
Grown into a mighty shrill.
And yet undone and drowned by greater will.
Spilling into the causeway,
Gazing at the swill rising in the north,
Wash away, wash away,
Rise and fall, tide and all.
Cold and chill, harm and ill.
Hope beyond all measure.
Quiet and still, God waits to intervene,
When the time is right,
He arrives to soothe our plight,
And hope becomes more than a dream.
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