Poetry Project #28

This poem turned 15 today.  Let us bow our heads for a moment of silence to say fare-thee-well to my youth


A pounding fist beats through my head
Everything’s seen through layers of red.
Bright colored shades, exceptionally bright;
I feel as though my scalps on tight.
I close my eyes– maybe I can see
Silence may be the only key.
Picturing fingers running through my hair
Caressing and petting with tender care.

Harder and faster the fist does pound.
My mind is calling like a hound.
A foggy haze sweeps over my vision
My head is the scene of a catastrophic collision.
Rocking and rocking– my mind needs to sleep
Slowly, like coming fall, I begin to weep.

A treacherous night this has become
To sit and think what has been done
It’s like a migraine breaking your day;
It’s like a bull that wants to play.

Sleep won’t keep me down tonight
Not with these memories shining bright.

A living Hell is what I’m in.

No matter what I’ll never win.

March 28, 2001 (age 17)



Quick note: I suffered migraines from an early age.  I still have migraines [chronic acute migraines] but the causes are slightly different.  They were originally caused by a cerebral arteriovenous malformation I wouldn’t know I had since birth until it ruptured almost 10 years to the day after I wrote this poem (March 6, 2011).  I now have migraines associated with the damage caused by that rupture and the surgery that followed to remove the AVM. The migraines have evolved from feeling tight like stuck in a vice, or pounding like from tiny but powerful hammers, to an all consuming and nauseating nightmare that douses me in sensitivities. I had no idea 15 years ago that migraines could change or be worse than I already experienced.



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