to the ghosts of my illness,
who come and put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder,
reminding me of what it was like to have them
around in the flesh rather than just in glimpses.
to their randomness,
for they do as they please.
weather changes or tiredness
will draw them near with ease.
the thumping inside my head as they knock
to let me know i lived through it all.
to their humming in my ears,
recounting the past and the tears.
sometimes they make me cry,
taking advantage of my sensitivity,
but they’re not evil
they’re just ghosts.
here’s to the phantoms
that keep reminding me how bad it was
but instead, succeed at making me grateful.
i raise my glass,
to them all,
for i am alive
A toast. Because sometimes old poems and pieces of artwork speak better than new words (this was written in May 2016), and the artwork is from 2013. Some ghosts are persistent, some are here to stay.
I hadn’t done a Moon Writes post in a while and given that I’ve had a small regression and remembering how bad the pain can be, this felt applicable, and hey, maybe it will speak to others, even if it is a toast made for my specific ghosts.