Beating the Devil

Beating the Devil


As I lay down in feathered sheets, and mossy pillows,
I stay awake and stare, just stare out the window,
watching the blistering moon count the sapphire stars,
and as Jupiter winks at Mars, I's aware I'm still alive.
The heart stlil beats -- pa dump., pa dump -- an my arms
and festering legs respond as I wiggle
both my fingers and toes.

I wasn't supposed to be here you see, that sly virus
having raided innocent T4 cells who were supposed
to respond in kind, but instead dies maliciously
by the ravaging illness. Six months later, the doctors
had told me, and I had nodded in return, stunned
into silence, watching the woolen world melt
away into sunless days and starless nights, as silken
soil was poured upon my sullen carcass, unmoving,
unmoving. I fade into reality, as the polite physician
tells me about nutrition, the value of vitamins
and minerals which will extend my tremulous life
an additional two month perhaps. I wonder,
maybe I should take up smoking.

There is not sure, still no cure, but twenty-four
yearning years later, I am still here. I won;t kid
you by saying that the journey was completely worth
brittle moments and bitter tantrums, but parts
of this path have been exceptionally beautiful,
and painful. I came about diabolical disease
to my parents so afraid of raging rejection.
The truth is, it made us all closer, and stronger,
yet strangely vulnerable. Dad, now gone, was the first
to be indoctrined, followed by my weeping mother
who called me as I remained solid, informing
her that the new cocktail of medicine would change
Western medicine. She stopped crying, I felt relieved.

The gift I was granted, that I earned, was to be here.
be present, and remain grateful, even in maddening
moments. I try for periods of time, and sometimes succeed.
I'm alive, I'm still here. Therapy allows me to remove
my buried nemeses layer by layer by layer. It's not the luscious
life I had planned, but it is the life that opened up for me,
and the journey is the journey, a jungle amidst solid concrete,
a way to dismantle unsavory misconceptions, to heal,
to take stock, to take my place in this crazy world,
that offers no solace or promises.

And now I stand, to take my rightful place in this grand world.
I am alone, always alone, but I stand amidst other
who are also alone, following pomegranate paths
towards a fruitful future.