April Poetry Fundraiser

Day 6

The Day I Fainted and Fell Down the Stairs
by S.A. Bowden

It was March 12.
Woke up feeling fine
In the bathroom this awful feeling came over me
Hot, cold, famished, about to vomit, need to move, need to lie down
All the opposing extremes pulling me in every direction
On the floor on my elbows and knees, trying to reorient myself
Need to wash my hands, don’t touch anything
I don’t remember flushing— I must have—
I pulled myself up using the counter ledge
Things started getting hazy as I squirted soap on my hand
Don’t quite remember—
I was lying on the floor, hands wet and cold
What happened?
Decided: Get to bed, then text Mom and Dad and tell them I feel sick
Wait— wait until the dizziness goes away
Don’t remember—
Darkness—
THUD THUD-THUD THUD
I opened my eyes.  Lying on my back on the stairs
Dad’s face above me
“Are you okay?”
That’s easy: “No.”

I could walk by dinnertime
But the next morning I felt dizzy again
Patient First found my blood pressure very low
They stuck a needle in my arm
And pumped two liters of fluid into me
To no avail
My BP dropped when I sat up.
“Take her to the ER.”

In a sterile room at Johns Hopkins they told me
My fainting was caused by a combination of illness and dehydration
Which made my blood pressure drop, maybe it was already a little low.
Water is life
I didn’t have enough water in me, enough life in me
When the horrible thing, which I didn’t expect, which I thought I was safe from, struck
To burn me out from inside
My heart didn’t have enough life
It went through the motions
With barely enough to keep it going
Until it could not go on.
My body could no longer carry
The weight of
Itself.

****

Poetry is…
by Mya Smith

Poetry is a piece of art that is never finished.

Poetry is like a blooming flower that no one sees.

Poetry is about life, but also about death.

Poetry is as important as a baby’s first words.

Poetry is as pointless as a grain of sand.

Poetry means that people still believe.

Poetry is my life in writing.

****

Old and New, Borrowed and Blue
by Sam Yoseph

Here’s your something old,
A handful of stars.
So you can believe
And know you are who you are.

Here’s your something new,
A planet filled with sights.
So you can understand
That you are absolutely bright.

Here’s your something borrowed,
A quick breath of fresh air.
So you can remember
It’s alright to be scared.

Here’s your something blue,
A cup full of laughter.
So you can confide in me
After happily ever after.

 

 

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