My Invisible Illness The illness my body hosts, it is a chameleon—clever and full of surprises. It disappears for a time giving false hopes  only to reappear as if harmless. Its pretense, unconscionable and vindictive as though envious of my drug-induced, thanks to science, near pain free idleness.  In its invisibility, the illness tiptoes surreptitiously into my days and nights like a cat burglar but dismissive of the hour. It eats away  at the fragility of a new normal I fought to reconstruct from nothing but sheer will and stubborn resolve not to surrender   to an invader I cannot see. Its presence is much like a vengeance.  A force warring against my body, my life sustaining organs, leaving me no place to hide because it hides in me. Clever, indeed, in all its invisibility. Cruel in its malevolence. The periodic new normal that medicine allows Is temporal, but it hypnotizes one to think I’ve won over the devastation the illness Inflicts on the body and beyond. Wretchedly this inv

 THE POET IN US This poem came unexpectedly this early evening. It couldn't be ignored. I soon posted it on social media and three friends reacted in this way: Friend K: Thank you for sharing this. I have found myself in unusually pensive states recently, and contemplating "this precious human life" and remembering that life is impermanent, like a water bubble. I have recently seen, encountered, or happened to come across visuals and writings that shed light. They have been well timed as I could have gone down a rabbit hole that is not beneficial. Thank you for being part of that light Friend J: This reminds me of my advanced age. It saddens me that it is toward the end and also calms me with sweet memories. And yet another dear friend wrote: Y ou reached down into the infinite depths of your being to write this poem---I must read it many times over but I think it's MAGNIFICENT! This poem is about growing old. It is about acceptance, and appreciating the journey. IT I