When Light Hurts

*trigger warnings regarding chronic conditions, including particularly serious ones   Migraine I recognise Sensory disturbance, I’m calmer knowing what it is; My brain   On fire, Waiting For full diagnosis Thinking of Dad’s aneurisms, Anxious,   My sight blurs I am fire and ice Pressures rise Behind eyes; I had brain damage at birth, Now…

Hope has petals

Insignificance does not apply, Rose pepper wings and crumbling things, As petals fade in half-light Clinging to the old walls To catch the flight of butterflies.   Antonia Zenkevitch a response to a VJWC prompt

I am Zebra

There are stripes

Hidden within

My pale skin,

Zebra stripes

Where the matter of me is stretched thin

Light and dark matter between

Each cell’s loose connections,

Each day my stripes go unseen

By those whose fear casts reflections;

Projections of who they fear themselves to be

As they try to warp and bend my sense of identity,

But their fear is not me.

Do Say

Do say, don’t abate,
unleash that sly stream of hate;
feign each injury
is just advise to cure me.

Fog

thick fog descending,

fighting to find thoughts missing

in the throbbing swam. 

Thirsty Words

I’d lost words

But with keen intent

Regained them,

In each breath

Paroxysms of purpose

Direct gusts of wind …

You Are Not Alone

You are not alone, a cliché but true,
though it sounds like another platitude
beneath which judgement or indifference lies,

yet, when sincere, this phrase can catalyse

threads spun across oceans, footsteps on the moon …

Butterflies

Don’t fret about the shades

that flit before my eyes

they are my butterflies,

Dark Matter

it bends my light;

stretches me

as universe implodes

slowly