Breath & Shadow
Summer 2019 - Vol. 16, Issue 3
"Grand Mal" and "Mandala"
written by
Maluma
"Mandala"
When you can't stand
your life one second
longer, this is what
you must do:
Get out of bed.
Put on clean underwear.
Put on that dress with
The green buttons and
stripes of blue.
Look out at the morning
With its expectant face
and withered leaves.
Set your feet down
on the carpet. It
doesn't matter if the
carpet is frayed yellow,
Just find the patch
of sun on it where
you would lay if
you were a cat and
draw a circle around it.
This is your
mandala for the day.
Study it.
"Grand Mal"
1.
For one second before I seize
I can feel it approach
like a hawk encircling its prey
with one exacting purpose.
At the same time
I am overtaken by an animal terror
for my body knows of what's to come.
The hawk, with skillful acuity
dives in for the kill
and as I leave my body,
forced out by fright,
it grabs me with its talons,
attacks me with its beak
and strips me of muscle, thought,
bone, fur, awareness.
2.
A few minutes later I return
to my shaking animal body
discarded by the hawk
rejected by death
and knowing only terror.
Restless and raw,
groundless and homeless,
pieces of fur and bone
lie scattered amongst fragmented thoughts.
3.
Slowly,
bit by bit,
piece by piece,
every muscle spent
every neuron used up,
I put myself back together:
tendon to bone to flesh
to thought to awareness,
memory by memory,
I begin to recognize
who this self is.
I tremble and cry
at once overcome
with the horror and wonder
that is life.
Maluma, 64 years old, lives in Northern California with her partner of twenty-five years and three cats. She also lives with seizure disorder, anxiety and sleep disorder. She has self-published two poetry books: Welcome and My Wild Embrace. Visit her blog on Spirituality and dealing with chronic illness.