words falling, like petals

for d’Verse haibun Monday,  “cherry blossom“:

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s not like I was dangerously ill. I didn’t end up in hospital or on a ventilator or anything like that. I was only really sick for maybe a week, and now this lingering malaise. Like being invisibly weighted about the shoulders and ankles, and drained of energy and enthusiasm for… well, anything.

So I have given myself permission to not try too hard for a while. This is a new thing, and sits uneasily. I tell myself that my mind needs rest just like my body does, and I hope that it’s true. Because I keep expecting to get bored, to feel the urge to do something, to write something. But I don’t. So I’m working shorter hours, no evening walks, no writing. Walks tire me too much, leave me coughing and exhausted. Worse than this, words escape me. Phrases fall apart before they reach the page, scraps of white-noise with no meaning, like cherry blossoms in the wind.

 

my words come apart,

confetti-petals falling

in drifts at my feet