Sickness/Flu

A Poem by Rose

In the world of sickness one is thrown into another dimension where one’s mind is tricked and sometimes expanded. Suddenly, we can see things not seen in the well world. When we are well, everything looks perfect behind our rose colored glasses. But under the influence of a fever, we see things differently. Like peering through a glass prism and finding all kinds of colors, one can find all kinds of naked truths when they are ill.

Through the prism, I see women holding onto the last strand of hope for their children’s future while their elected representatives speak flowery words of hope and promise that pour into a big room of emptiness producing nothing.

On the other side of the prism, I see true colors of reality making images look surreal mixed in with bits and pieces of truth.

Through the prism, I see that hope is a good thing to have ---but in reality, hope is like progress ---inching toward the future ever so slow while our world crumbles before our very eyes stealing away every last bit of hope dangling from our mothers’ apron strings.

Through the prism of sickness, one can find all kinds of naked truths. Maybe that’s why God made sure we all got a good dose of it before leaving this "perfect" world.