28 January 2010

Family Illness

We have a trauma in the family; Granny's life's at risk; a bleed from cerebral amyloid angiopathy. My interior life has moved into slow motion. It's not sticky or muddy; it's constricted. The sun is bright, the sky blue turning grayish from an approaching snow storm. It's cold in the room where I write. TV's still a content of redundancies of programs I've never liked. I feel danger; there's no danger to me. My interior life just feels slow, preoccupied with a purpose I can do nothing to affect. Death's imminence not yet arrived. I'll walk to the hospital.

No comments:

Post a Comment