The Ether Net

 

Being cut off from the world- 

  It's a weird feeling. 

Like the hands of addiction that want to reach-stretched into 

  The ether net...

Can find no reprieve there. 

It is weird waiting for people 

  to call me. 

Levels cut off already, 

  I watch the outer world fold in on itself, 

    Yet almost immeasurably. 

The stillness grows sharper. 

  The emotions amplified. 

The timing, just. 

  

Flocking then to old remedies. 

  The pen in silence. 

The meditation and thought 

  In a candle lit room. 

The abiding of my cove, 

  In this Lion's Den. 

Yet mother, I am. 

  To them all. 

What I would have made due in tasks, 

  I too have folded;

Epitome of recovery, muscles sore. 

  Energy at five percent 

Since mother came out of the hospital in April. 

All before my life, blew itself down. 

 My big bad wolf, helping. 

Then in the storm, 

  I'd still have to tuck my chin to chest, 

and make it through. 

 The metaphor of a mother

Feeding her children bread, 

  While with none herself, she makes due. 

  

And I have. 

  Storm a softer ocean current now. 

And Santa Ana's on their way. 

  They will bring in a new drift. 

Sweeping the old current away.