AWOL with apologies
The body objects
This week the fatigue has caught up with me. 7 weeks in to this new chemotherapy, and writing is difficult. Mid-sentence I stop typing, because I’m not sure where my thoughts were headed.
Right before I sleep the words come rushing. The images. The poignancy that may or may not have real.
In the evenings, I’ve been trying to concentrate on poetry. Learning to identify dipodic meter. Attempting to write in it. But my attention span is short when I’m sitting still, I can’t get past a quatrain. The body objects to a stillness that is not sleep.
Oddly, the best way to fight fatigue is to exercise. So I am either exercising or falling asleep.
This, too, will pass. (My sincere apologies to my subscribers - paid and unpaid.)
And in the meantime, I want to share Jane Kenyon’s poem. Since I read it, I have been asking myself what it is to be free.
Or specifically not.