Hardly There

I’m going insane, dancing, like a puppetere, with my fingers
And feet
Yet utterly and absolutely
Still
As the march ground
Bursting
With life not yet existent
Ready to leap from the hands of mother nature
And prove to us it’s spring

See? I’m going insane.
It’s not spring
And nowhere close
And March’s cold ground
Is anything but still
And puppetere’s don’t dance
With feet (maybe fingers)
And I’m not dancing.

They call me Gracie
Here, at least

I don’t know
Or remember
What they called me before
The accident.
It was an Accident
Because I was meant to die
And he to live
And they won’t tell me more.
They say my brain was battered around
And I’m missing
The way to remember things
Long ago.

I know what I am wearing
Because they tell me
And I know what they say
Because they spell it into
My fingers
And thoughts
Burning marks of
Heat from their bodys
While mine
Is cold as Ice.
I am blind now. I could see before,
They say
But I cannot
Remember
What things I would see.
I am deaf as well
Because who wouldn’t be
If a bomb exploded next
To you.
They say
I will regain my
Hearing
Over time
But I will have to learn which sounds are
Which meanings.
Because I cannot remember these things
I am renderd mute.

I am Gracie;
Not Hellen Keller

Thank you very much.