SHINING IN THE DARK (Day #20 What I Learned)

Nothing is certain

There's no guarantee, that life

Is going to give you

All the things you dreamed about

No matter how hard you try.

One day you might wake

To find everything you love

All that you worked for

Dissolve into nothingness

It's then that you must decide

You can just give up

And choose to wallow and whine

Or you can go on

Because who knows what bright star

May start shining in the dark?

Caren E. Salas

photo: nationalgeographic.com

LUCKY ME (#11 an "unlucky" poem)

Apparently, I'm special,

One of ninety, out of one

Hundred thousand, lucky me.

Plus, being that I'm female,

Two or three times as likely

As a man to get this...gift.

Although most cases are found

In northern states and colder 

Climates, I live in So Cal.

The age bracket is between

Twenty and forty, but me...

Diagnosed at twenty three.

There's no cure, but it can be

Slowed down a bit, with a shot

Three times a week, oh goody!

Feeling better already. 

Thank God for good insurance. 

Shots are seven thousand bucks.

Still, I'm luckier than some

I have friends and family

And a wonderful husband.

I have four beautiful kids

And if that wasn't enough

Now I'm even a grandma.

I have a lot of bad days,

I have really good ones too

And although those tend to be 

Fewer, I know that I must

Make them count, and knowing that

Makes me luckier than most.

Caren E. Salas

A really good day "Muck Fest" 2014 

For more information on Multiple Sclerosis, check out https://www.nationalmssociety.org/What-is-MS

FIGHT (#5 a Self Destruct poem)

Who needs enemies?

My body attacks itself

Every day's a fight.

Caren E. Salas

A Day Late and a Poem Short

Somehow, I completely lost track of April. Yes, pretty much the entire month has disappeared from memory. I did go on a cruise the first week of the month, but after that...it's all a blur. I sort of remember unpacking, and trying to catch up on the bills and housework, but other than that....things get fuzzy..And now, here it is: the end of May.

So unfortunately I missed Robert Lee Brewer's Poem a Day Challenge for National Poetry Month which was almost two months ago. At first I thought "Awe, man! I blew it!" But then I realized, that I can still look up Mr. Brewer's prompts and I can still write a poem every day for a month. Well, I can try anyway. So here I go. Hopefully you will join me for the ride. I'll try and keep up.

The first prompt was to write a "Foolish Poem". There's something about that word that sort of bothers me. I don't mind the occasional surprise that makes you jump, or a silly rubber spider in your cereal, but for a person to purposely set another person up to make them feel stupid, seems hurtful, and alienating.  So...here's my post for a "Foolish" poem:

THE FOOL

No one wants to play the fool

The butt of jokes, the target

In a dart game, the bullseye

Talked and laughed about by all

Who need to put down others

In order to raise themselves.

Caren E. Salas

Erased

I'm still here

But you can't see me

Closed your eyes

So I'll go away.

I'm still here

But you won't hear me

Turned your back

To what I say.

I'm still here

Though I'm deleted

Marked and cut

Without a paste.

I'm still here

But I don't exist

Because to you

I've been erased.

Caren E. Salas

Just a Dream

Sometimes I think

It was just a dream

Another life

Me, imagining.

My dancing shoes

Have gathered dust

My singing voice 

Is a little rusty.

My body is tired.

My song is sad;

A quiet echo

Of what once I had.

But still I try

No giving in,

Discouraged by

What could have been.

It may not end 

The way I planned,

But I'm on my feet

And I can make a stand.

And if I can stand,

Then I can dance.

Another show.

Another chance.

I refuse to quit.

No surrendering,

And never stop

Remembering...

That once I thought

It was just a dream

Another life

Me, imagining.

Caren E. Salas

Photo: CSUDH  "A Chorus Line" 1988

Counting Spoons

Twenty-four shiny measuring spoons

One for each hour of my day

How will I use them? What will I do?

Can't let them be wasted away.

Three to wake up, shower, get dressed

Taking my daughter to school: one more

Making my breakfast takes maybe a half

But shopping for groceries takes four.

A third of them gone and it's not even noon,

And there's so much left to be done.

To dust and to vacuum sucks up about five

If I sit folding clothes that's just one.

When I pick up my daughter, I'll stop at the bank

And stop at the dry cleaners too

That's about six gone, but dinner and dishes

Will take up five more and I'm through!

I'm over my budget of energy spoons

So tomorrow I'll be starting with less

Twenty-two and a half, but a new list of chores

You just can't imagine my stress.

Which, by the way, takes it's own toll in spoons

Depleting the few I can use.

And sadly the deficit continues to grow

There's nothing about this I'd choose.

But once in a while I have a great day

And somehow that seems to renew

My little supply of slightly bruised spoons

Sometimes even extras accrue.

So I plug along, counting my spoons

Knowing all will work out in the end

As long as I have a few really good times

And the help of my family and friends.

Caren E. Salas

Inspired by "The Spoon Theory" by Christine Misorandino

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

The Battle

The sand in the hourglass

Flows like a mighty waterfall.

It flips over and over, until it's spinning

Like a pinwheel in a hurricane.

I watch hopelessly without the strength 

To hold even a few grains of it's sand 

As they slip through my fingers like rain.

I scream. I cry in the night, clinching my fists;

Losing the battle against the relentless passing of time.

The darkness and cold embrace me;

No way to stoke the fire inside

That might save me. Sometimes I barely feel 

The glow of it's embers, as my will 

To struggle increasingly wanes. I'm falling,

Too intensely worn, to continue a battle

That I will not win.

I scream. I cry in the night, clinching my fists.

Losing the battle against impending eternal night.

But...I fight, yes fight I must,

Because the war isn't over just yet

I continue steadfast

And though the time flies, and life fades to black

I still dream. I will dream.

And I scream, and cry in the night, clinching my fists

Maybe losing the battle, but never surrendering to the war.

Caren E. Salas

photo: http://wall.alphacoders.com

Not the Same #26

When I'm down for the count, please don't try and claim

That you know how I feel, that you've played the game.

I know that you're trying, and I'm not placing blame

But it's just not the same, it's just not the same.

Sometimes we all have a need to complain

And everyone has their own level of pain

But your constant one-upping just makes me insane

And there's nothing to gain, there's nothing to gain.

Caren E. Salas

Prompt # 26 Something that is or isn't the "same". This isn't aimed at anyone in particular (my disclaimer, lol) Just a common complaint from those of us with chronic illnesses.

Just Words #17

They're just words:

Neurological.

Multiple

Sclerosis.

Chronic pain. Auto-immune.

Until they are not.

Caren E. Salas

Prompt #17 - "Afflicted
Photo: bioresearchinstitute.com

Gone - Day 8

blind
spots
here, there,
everywhere
growing every day
until the sun no longer shines
first dim, then darker, until one day, all light is gone



Caren E. Salas

Prompt : "blind": physically mentally or emotionally

On This Side

Like the rug being pulled out

From under my feet, it feels

Wrong, unfair, ridiculous

Something better is out there

But I have to endure more

Pain before I am allowed

To try or even dream it

Sure feels like I've done my time

Already, but clearly not

To those deciding what's "best"

If they just knew how things felt

On this side of the needle....

I think things would be different.

 

 

Caren E. Salas

Heartbreak - Day 10: A "Suffering" poem

I pray I'll never
Know the heartbreak a mother
Feels, holding her child,
Knowing that there's nothing she
Can do to stop the cancer.


Caren E. Salas










(in case you saw another poem with this day # or prompt, I messed up a little. I had all my poems in my journal and ended up posting the wrong one with this prompt - "Easy to Say" was supposed to be my "comparison" poem on Day 13)

Easy to Say - Day 13: a "Comparison" Poem

What's painful for me, or painful for you
Cannot be proven false or true.
So don't tell me the level of pain that I feel,
Or that what I'm feeling is not actually real.
It's easy to say that it's all in my mind;
When it comes to me and my body, you're blind.
Unless you can feel what I feel inside,
Stop spouting from books and reacting from pride.
Just because the things that I'm feeling don't show
Doesn't mean they're not there, but you'll never know.

Caren E. Salas


This is for every doctor or nurse that has told me, "this won't hurt" or "it can't be that bad" or "it's all in your mind". Really?  (*sigh)

I Can See it on Your Face

The news can't be good. I can

See it on your face, that look

Of pity, sympathy, dread.

Just don't say everything will

Be okay, 'cause I can tell,

Things will never be the same.

Caren E. Salas

Day 29 of April Poem a Day. Prompt: Take a phrase or theme from a previous poem this month and write a poem based on that. "I can see it on your face" from the poem "Condescension"  (Day 22).

Studied...

Studied...

How many parts of me have been studied, 

X-rayed, put under a microscope? Brain,

Spinal fluid, blood, urine, bones, lungs, skin,

Tendons, cartilage, eyes, ears, teeth, hormones

Top to bottom, hands and feet, front to back

Even my thoughts and feelings analyzed,

Countless hours waiting, testing, waiting 

Again, for results that may or may not

Result in answers. We're ruling it out,

They say, but I say, they don't have a clue.

Caren E. Salas

Day 21 of April PAD prompt: "under a microscope".
photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microscope

Day 17: Tell me why...

The One Who Knows

They can send a man all the way to the moon
And make robots that dance and play
So why can't they cure cancer?
Or free my friend from pain?

They have pills for almost every ailment
Most times the side effects are worse
Is that why I never feel better?
Or was I struck by some ancient curse?

They act like they have all the answers
While denying the One who does
Maybe that's why they struggle for knowledge
And why they can't help the rest of us.

And the One who does know the answers
Won't tell me until I am dead
Too bad I won't be able
To tell everyone what He said.

Caren E. Salas

Day 14: A Crossroads Poem

This prompt was a hard one. I kept starting over and it just didn't seem to work. I decided to try a shadorma just for fun and it...worked I think. 



Turn Around

Don't listen
To what doctors say
When they say
There's no hope.
Turn around, and tell yourself
"I believe in Life."



Caren E. Salas

Day 4: A Containment Poem

Temporary 

                                                 

Plastic bottle

Child proof lid

Small white pills

Two at a time

Every few hours

Promising me

Sometimes a lie
It's temporary
Relief from the pain
My brief escape

But don't forget

It's temporary
Can't forget
The pain returns
Every few hours
Two at a time
Small white pills
Plastic bottle
Child proof lid.


Caren E. Salas

Stay Awake

Normally I welcome sleep,

But lately I dread the thought

Of the nightmares that await.

Memories of the pain and fear

Haunt me 'til the morning comes.

I want to just...stay awake...

Caren E. Salas