Crossing the Threshold

The doctor’s opinion was cruel at best,
It seems years of stress cannot be reversed by rest,
So maybe it’s true what they say about art,
About how every work takes a piece of your heart,
Although in this case it took from her arm,
Up to the threshold of “irreversible harm,”

She reflects on those adages proved false:
Say, “Do your Best,” “Just Believe,” and “Embrace your Faults.”
How can you “believe” when “best” cripples you,
And “embracing your faults” just hurts too much to do?

So what is left for the artist denied?
She could stop now and simply be happy she tried,
After all, so few people touch their dreams,
Just embrace the modern ennui, swallow your screams.

But if losing an arm stops her, then arm be damned.
She takes a breath and lifts the pen with her left hand.

Inspired by a conversation with my good friend, starrf1sh. If you have stumbled upon my discarded recollections, do be decent and give their work a look – visual artists are simply a different breed of poet.

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