A month after the pills and the ambulance,
after days of delirium and needles and tubes,
after a week spent stripping myself bare,
body and mind and soul,
in the presence of uncounted, unfamiliar
doctors and nurses and counselors,
I am alive,
I am grateful,
I love and am loved,
and I have found hope once more.


I have wandered this endless
winter night so long that my eyes
easily distinguish shadow from
deeper shadow, leaving me more
sure-footed but no less lost. The cold
sits in my bones, deep and relentless,
having long ago chased away
memories of warmth. Fitful sleeps
lead to wakings filled with the ache
of growing certainty that morning
will never again dawn.