the epicenter of shock
is the body itself
the secret whisper beneath the crust
stress built quietly in soft places
unknown, unseen, unfelt
until pressure shattered—
rupturing through tissue, time, and thought

the body wave of fear as
my personal nature’s faultline
in a landslide
shears away tomorrows I presumed
the loss untallied and unknown
mourning my own life
and its foreshortened shadow
a shiver through the bedrock
of who I thought I was

seeking a target for revenge—
at the carnage
but the target is myself
body failing body
self betraying self
tears surface through agonized breaths
from deep carved fissures
in the aftermath
fire and flame burn within
waiting on the next tremor
roiling energy of anger and injustice
live in a strangled scream
imprisoned in anguish
that drills down instead of out

the strain spreads like ink—
into every pore
emotional, physical, mental
an elastic ache
pulling me further
Away from who I was
dislocating me from my life
how far I’ve moved
from the axis of before.
the desperation to escape—
but there is no escape
when the ground beneath your feet
has crumbled

now my body— a landscape altered
carved by surgery
poison, pills & protocols
oscillating,
trembling between hope and despair
vibrating in resonance
with the rhythm of treatment
the aftershocks come,
reiterating the original fear
in the form of scans,
failure or success

tiny jolts echo through the days,
testing my fragile equilibrium
mortality amplified as never before
rises to the surface and broods—
even happiness is sullied
by its gray insistence
like dirt falling on virgin snow
Joy is tainted
by a mind instinctively
conjuring tenebrous thoughts—
How many joys are left?

held together by thin hope
a double life, a double face
so alone
even in a crowd
so alone
protecting others from my agony
of body and of mind
sharing eases but does not erase
the torture
of unanswerable questions

and yet—
I lift up from the muck
in self-preservation
from the ruins
I still have today
I’ve learned this:
there’s no strike
without rupture.
no rupture
without change.
I walk the fractured ground,
each step
an act of belief
that this broken body
still belongs to me
Is still here
Each wave,
Each hour,
Each breath,
at a time.

Originally written: 1/25-4/7/2025