Numb’s the word.
Just past summer
solstice, no rain, muck
blows off
as a dusty burst
of thoughts you may have—but
they will remain trapped
in a cephalic void. The conversation
is over.
I’m not ready.
My jaw aches
from clenching
teeth against the cruelty
of your disease. Look out,
I can’t predict when
or where I’ll bite.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
Your voice of pain speaks for so many whose words can never be as sharp and eloquent. A beautiful, hard, sad poem. Thank you for writing.
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Joan: Thank you so much. It’s nice to hear from you. Yes, this is a tough subject for me–but I just can’t avoid it all the time.
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You paint such reality into your abstractions. I listen in wonder as you describe this journey…. I can only feel the slightest breeze of the windstorm that’s swirling around your youth, pulling you into another acute stage of reality, and then wisdom, and then spiritual expansion. I love you and I love the words you harvest into print. We don’t need to talk to feel connected.
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Thank you so much, Elfie. I am so touched that you read my blog. I always feel that connection too–and talking is good too. Let’s do that soon. I love you!
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