Toad
06-03-2008, 07:54 PM
For many years I have been able to find the words to describe different facets of seizures though most often those very words were born from the experience and during in some cases.
Attempting to put in words one other portion of what I and so many others deal with (in this case TBI’s) has proven far more challenging though this may be in constructing it; it feels as if from thin air.
Never-the-less, so many here have done so well at articulating facets of what they or their children, sibling, spouse, etc., are dealing with, thus I am giving it an attempt.
I have had many TBI’s, interestingly I am finding it difficult to ascertain whether I have punctuated this so as to make it clear. Feel free to express any difficulties, or lack of. I had to share this with someone and this did seem the only place I could go…
Do you know what it is?
Do you know what it is
To lose all you know to be so?
And all you knew not to be?
What you could use to reason?
That which you could rely on?
With the desire and capacity always to learn further
Taken by your leave?
Traumatic brain injury.
Do you know what it is
To relearn what was taken?
To recreate what was lost?
To reclaim much without which
To live is a seeming waste?
A hurdle far further than most surmount;
Forever left dismantled.
Do you know what it is
To then again, in much the same way,
Find yourself back where you started?
Less, of course,
That which was previously recovered?
Many former desires staved,
Diminished self-identity,
Desecrates relearned resolve,
Cools the fire within one's soul.
Far further down was the metaphorical
bottom-of-the-barrel
Than ever thought could be; abysmal.
With each subsequent insult,
An Idiopathically induced conundrum;
Missing pieces.
Within seemingly mundane tasks;
Eluded sensification without grace
Nor care,
For that which it begins to torture:
Hell in thought.
To suggest
All which struggled with:
Created by your mind—
Self-identity wavers,
For they say it is so.
To find they were wrong,
To fight for a life
With any substance,
Becomes a battle of wits
Which were lost; first insult—
Leaves one wanting
Endlessly,
As the wool is pulled quite easily,
Over eyes which question
Validity.
For a mind which is supposed to create
Ailments imaginary,
Though in fact existent,
Ties train of thought—
Knotted endlessly.
With each relearning
To execute—
What once was but a thought,
Involves complete focus;
Exhausts disproportionately.
One day takes a week,
A week seen in a month,
Though lost in mere seconds—
Challenges
As a path to follow
Before it exists.
Todd
Attempting to put in words one other portion of what I and so many others deal with (in this case TBI’s) has proven far more challenging though this may be in constructing it; it feels as if from thin air.
Never-the-less, so many here have done so well at articulating facets of what they or their children, sibling, spouse, etc., are dealing with, thus I am giving it an attempt.
I have had many TBI’s, interestingly I am finding it difficult to ascertain whether I have punctuated this so as to make it clear. Feel free to express any difficulties, or lack of. I had to share this with someone and this did seem the only place I could go…
Do you know what it is?
Do you know what it is
To lose all you know to be so?
And all you knew not to be?
What you could use to reason?
That which you could rely on?
With the desire and capacity always to learn further
Taken by your leave?
Traumatic brain injury.
Do you know what it is
To relearn what was taken?
To recreate what was lost?
To reclaim much without which
To live is a seeming waste?
A hurdle far further than most surmount;
Forever left dismantled.
Do you know what it is
To then again, in much the same way,
Find yourself back where you started?
Less, of course,
That which was previously recovered?
Many former desires staved,
Diminished self-identity,
Desecrates relearned resolve,
Cools the fire within one's soul.
Far further down was the metaphorical
bottom-of-the-barrel
Than ever thought could be; abysmal.
With each subsequent insult,
An Idiopathically induced conundrum;
Missing pieces.
Within seemingly mundane tasks;
Eluded sensification without grace
Nor care,
For that which it begins to torture:
Hell in thought.
To suggest
All which struggled with:
Created by your mind—
Self-identity wavers,
For they say it is so.
To find they were wrong,
To fight for a life
With any substance,
Becomes a battle of wits
Which were lost; first insult—
Leaves one wanting
Endlessly,
As the wool is pulled quite easily,
Over eyes which question
Validity.
For a mind which is supposed to create
Ailments imaginary,
Though in fact existent,
Ties train of thought—
Knotted endlessly.
With each relearning
To execute—
What once was but a thought,
Involves complete focus;
Exhausts disproportionately.
One day takes a week,
A week seen in a month,
Though lost in mere seconds—
Challenges
As a path to follow
Before it exists.
Todd