The first time I see
the diagnosis
in black and white
I am relieved to have
an answer, at least
I know why my body
and brain are like
puzzle pieces that don’t fit
why the ache of living
seems to belong to only me
Remember to wash down
the sugar sweet poison
with plenty of water.
They say my heart won’t last
if I keep this charade
The choice is
death or death
What do you choose,
the body, or the mind?
Would you trade in
your brightest thoughts
for the promise of
a few, tired years?
I used to think
the mourning dove
was a morning dove
and relish the sorrow in its call.
We greet the day with a dirge,
minor keys and melancholy.
Each sunrise is a little death
I am less of who I was
and more of who I am.
Oh woeful dove,
show me the meaning of sadness
so I might know when I feel joy
Megan Jauregui Eccles lives in the foothills of San Diego and is a novelist, professor, and accidental poet. When she’s not rehoming rattlesnakes, she plays Dungeons and Dragons with her five sons and hatches a variety of poultry. www.meganeccles.com