Life

between

sheets of dreams

knowing none know

where my tides convene

at breaker’s edge, the brow

transformed in the under-toe;

most people believe what they see;

choice summits of the pâte of Maslow,

they choose not to view the agony below,

So, into the ethereal, I go,

Sweet

Surreal

Seeming real,

Such carnivals

Seeking rootedness

In words that, like leaves, fall

To quench the envious grasses

That await the end of battles

With keen, upright, quivering jade quills,

I pluck them, for I’ve legends in me still.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

(OK, it’s a double etheree, because there was more to say … and more to live for, those who battle chronic illnesses, disabilities or struggles seen and unseen may understand.)