Masking a Limp

like my pen
so that walking around a short block
is more work than it once was,
but now that I’m halfway
I need to finish the circuit
and I’m not sure I can,
but nobody’s home for me to call to come get me,
so I press on, almost dragging the thing,

I take ibuprofen.
800 mgs 3 times a day
or 600 mgs 4 times a day
or 400 mgs 6 times a day
just no more than 24 mgs in 24 hours,
the doctor said.
I know the math by heart. It’s science.
If only this was true for the writing.

What triggered it this time?
is a question of limited value,
as most blaming is,
for while, at times, I can pinpoint
the sudden awkward turn,
the overreach,
the simple step repeated too much,
the answer informs only the future, as a warning.

What’s to be done now? is what I really want to know.
Is it better to walk it off or give it a rest?
Sometimes it’s one.
Sometimes the other.
Same with the pen.
Write my way out or take a break?

It probably doesn’t help that
I worry who’s looking out their window as I pass by
and waste energy masking my limp.

About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
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One Response to Masking a Limp

  1. pastordt says:

    Such truth here. Sigh. Thank you, Marilyn.


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