Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- bad days November 29, 2018

When it’s a bad day,

the pain is there with waking.

Constriction or stabbing,

nausea or aching;

it fills the head until there is nothing in the world

but the hopeless frustration,

that I will never be well again.

When it’s a bad day,

there are no conversations,

no outings or errands,

only holding the head,

taking another pill,

and praying tomorrow will be

a better day.

 

poem-moment June 15, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:46 pm
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In a moment

everything she thought she’d be

was sliced away.

In a moment

simple expectations yielded

to new arrays.

In a moment

opportunity seized her hand

to her dismay.

In a moment

foolish disappointments

were child’s play.

In a moment

her entire future was pulled

onto a new pathway.

 

 

poem- broken May 25, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:21 pm
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If the broken pieces

didn’t blind him,

cripple him,

impale him,

perhaps he’d be free

to see her pain.

And seeing, to embrace it,

tame it, and more–

for her to show him

what she knows,

that slivers can be pulled,

that slats can be hammered,

that broken pieces can grow into crutches,

that the cracks of fractures

can be patched into a quilt

for a bed of nails.

Oh, he is broken, but

Comfort is where you find it.

 

 

 

poem- sliced 2 October 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:48 am
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I was numb,

but I felt the gentle line you drew

across my skin, blade slicing deep.

You stretched me open,

revealed my patched bones,

unscrewed the metal holding me together.

Oh, you sewed me back together,

taped over the black sutures,

and here I lie, propped up against realities,

hoping for the best.

.

.

.

It sounds so lovely and metaphorical, but it’s literal.  🙂 Successful surgery this week to remove the plates and screws that repaired my broken fibula last January.  The screws were working out on their own and causing a fair bit of pain.  Looking forward to returning to regular, pain-free mobility very soon!

 

poem- limping March 5, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:40 pm
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The physiotherapist

rolls, stretches, and manipulates

my ankle joint.

Push here.

Pull there.

Between parallel bars

re-learn to walk:

roll from the heel,

flex that joint.

Let go.

If you rely on the supports

and are too tender with the joint

you’ll continue to limp.

Your body will think it must,

even when the joint is healed.

How many other ways

am I limping in my life?

How many other ways

should I re-learn to walk?

.

For Jody and Anita

 

 

poem-expansion February 19, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:13 am
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Swelling protectively

Guard against weakness

Pretend to be bigger

Ache inside.

 

 

poem-stretch February 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:56 am
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This joint needs stretching.

Lean into the pain,

just a little push.

Hold there,

on the edge of the agony.

Relax back.

Lean again; push

just

a little

further.

Stretch the joint;

flexibility is necessary,

when you may need to run,

eventually.

 

 

 
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