Writing for Wellness Chapter One

I wrote the following in response to the exercise in Chapter One of Writing for Wellness by Julie Davey. This is a very rough draft (very very even) and I suppose I ought to apologize for the American haiku when it would be better for me to try to create one more traditional. I will try to do so when I revise. In the meantime, the rough draft in all its rough glory.

* * * * *

These apron ties that bind us grow stronger as life and experience continues. Now a new thread connects us. Two conditions. Similar experiences. We know the exhaustion of mindfulness as we measure each move we make, look to the horizon to assess the weather dreading anything inclement. We know the cost of going through the motions while weighed down with something incurable. Her neuropathy. My vertigo. Across the telephone we agree, say in empathy, “I know. I know. I know.”

* * *

these things that hold us
together are not
as lasting as love

* * *

could it be the times
I had benign lumps
my love went too far?

* * *

some things are unchanged
like how my hand in yours still
feels so much smaller

too small to hold on
when letting go becomes so
inevitable