Alas, my fair city, your lot was cast into calamity,
And conflagration did beset your highways and pathways,
Did envelope in chaos the orderly procession of your nervous system,
Did upset the routes of your messengers and caravans
With a force like unto that of a sirocco of spaniels and terriers, in-bred and trained not well.
What confusion of your own vital spark, this incendiary eruption?
Wherefore the servant Energy became the Tyrant Disruption, all consuming?
Yea, we stood upon the forest hills of the Jamaica plain and did lick our paws in worry
As your citizens wandered aimlessly, hounds with no scent to guide their way,
Or sat still upon their haunches, bereft of your gentle guidance and motivation.
Alas, I know your calamity too well,
For also the conflagration did visit the electrical system of my neurons and synapses,
Did banish the relay of the sight of my eye and the scent of my nose
To the upright and goodly step of my muscled frame.
Nea, my frame and step were neither upright nor good.
I was as an invertebrate creature of the sea,
Cast from my element and splayed upon the polishedness of these wooden boards,
Perambulating only as my companions did lift me up upon the puppet strings
And did walk me fore and aft, carry me aloft and below,
With this rig of harness and buckles, making their muscle as mine.
Karen demos the new harness contraption for getting Frida up and down stairs post seizure. I can do this now, too, thanks to the personal trainer at my gym who has been getting me into squats, deadlifts, etc.
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1 comment:
Eloquent Frida!
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