The Wave

I sit in the chair enjoying the stillness of the night,

A gentle breeze blowing through the open doors and windows.

It’s been a good day, and all is well.


A wave hits, and I feel heat from the top of my head to my toes.

I begin to curse middle age — but this isn’t a flash; it’s a wave.

I force a smile and voice aloud that no wave can get me tonight,

It’s been a great day, and nothing can destroy it.


The second wave hits with the force of a Tsunami

Destroying every good memory in it’s path.

If I just go to bed, I know it will be better in the morning,

But my hindquarters are paralyzed and glued to the chair.


My hand sits on the TV remote.

I force my fingers to punch in a “happy” channel,

But my eyes and brain can’t process happy

And I stare blindly at the screen.


Earlier I penned blessings for which I have gratitude.

I try to recall those blessings,

But they were washed away with the wave.


Prayer will help, I think, and I try to pray.

No thoughts or words are formed.

Doubt, fear, and gloom continue to linger.

Paralysis persists, and I can’t move my body.


At long last muscles in my legs begin to twitch

And beg to be moved.

I’m able to stand.

If I can just go to bed, all will be well.


I lay on my pillow, but melancholy hangs in the air,

And sleep is nonexistent.

Words still won’t form a prayer.

Darkness looms.

Silent tears fall with no emotion.

And finally sleep.


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