Thursday, June 6, 2024

Pain Isn’t Gentle…

not-quite Journaling, 70

undear Instagram,
your updates suck rotten toes;
bring back recent posts

4/19/2024: My chronic pain group was asked to write about something that made our lives more difficult in a personal level. When I said that I was broken up over Instagram removing the recent posts filter, someone gave me a disdainful look and said some unflattering things about “[my] first world problem”. I wasn’t in the best of moods--I’d spent half the night puking, a migraine was threatening to pop my left eyeball, and my torn back muscle had rejoined the agony party--so, I might’ve told them to f*ck off. With feeling. I know, overreaction galore. But it was a crappy day quickly turning into a crappy week. My brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t work particularly well under those conditions.


climate change killing

5/5/2024: I’ve never seen these wee beauties in my bit of New York City. They are known by many names (Scilla luciliae, violet beauty), Lucile’s-glory-of-the-snow is my favorite. The combination makes me think of brightness and warmth. Also, it’s the perfect name for a flower that blooms from frosty February to still chilly March (or all the way into May… when the weather’s slightly mad).


in a tiny pot,
my wee orange seedling sprouts
cuteness overload

5/13/2024: I can’t look at this green baby without blooming into smiles. 🌱🥰🌱

thorns & curls
in my wee garden,
soothing green

5/15/2024: I love the twists and coils, the play of green and metal, the thorns and stones and warmth--soothe for the soul.


In flesh and bone, pain
wails misery
s old song;
in soil, Nature
(and I)
bloom cornflowers,
spirit balm,

5/26/2024: Chronic pain and I have been fighting over my body for weeks. I haven’t landed many punches, not until last night--I slept six hours straight! and woke up to a balcony bursting with bachelor’s buttons. Small steps, right? Then, a glorious kick to the teeth. Yes, I’m talking to you, Chronic Pain Bastard.


Pain isnt gentle,
so I must be
hard--grab it by the throat
and squeeze
poetry out of every scream.

I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.
~ Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…)