A Poem by D Alan Johnstone

September 5,
the number of crisis
from which I survived,
but only in that I was revived, but not wholly alive.

An ambulatory coma,
a filtered stroke, an untold joke
all on me, my own catastrophe
of sorts, marked,
"not to be unsorted".

To return to before
would be the end,
because what I am now
is not the same as what I was
before September 5 began.

© 2017 D Alan Johnstone

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Inquiring minds want to know what happened on September 5th? I see a lot of regret "my own catastrophe" that I can completely relate to! I like that part "marked 'not to be unsorted'" That just says so much in such a clever way! It definitely gives the indication of never being the same again and perhaps always remaining wounded/heartbroken if that's the case... to be forever changed and broken.. our pain shapes us.. and it builds us.. still we grow and scar tissue is stronger than the original.

Posted 1 Year Ago

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1 Review
Added on December 11, 2017
Last Updated on December 11, 2017