Migraine

…out of the mud and mire…

— from Psalm 40:2

It begins — 

that hint of light flashing 

somewhere at the periphery, 

but there even as I close 

my eyes, the way you see 

sparks after flash photography,

and soon that faint 

flicker becomes loud, 

a sharp-edged row 

of teeth and claws 

biting and scratching me,

and all else must stop 

while I am wounded 

by cutting light.

I stay in a dark room 

as it consumes much, 

dislocating me, 

until I give in, allow

it to envelope me, 

accept the inevitability, 

then I am finally able to float,

lay still in the raw truth

of pain and hope, 

that beautiful ache 

of knowing this will pass,

and I am not alone.

—C.L. Fisher, October 2021

Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.

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