Dandelion girl
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| Photo by Keegan Houser on Unsplash |
Spins and giggles
Tickles & wriggles
Whirlwinds of furl feathered bristles surround her.
This moment stops - only for her.
As the world rotates an incredible pace,
She creates.
The thrill she takes, in loss of control
Only exists because she made it that way.
Flickers of the grass strings slice against her knees drawing a in a sheer breath.
Length of the weeds whipping her shins aggravate her sensitive skin. But she just feels a rush.
Rough blades of the dried reeds cut thin slicing in,
But she thinks only of the sky and the tiny, feathered seeds flying by.
She doesn’t now need to check herself,
Take endless blood tests and explain what had happened then,
She doesn’t have to measure her food intake and calculate insulin.
Nor think of glucose levels and how to keep them even.
Nor change her equipment or load her details in them.
Nor press the hard plastic disc to puncture her sweet skin,
Nor find the right place to pierce the sharp needle in.
Nor explain to friends why she can’t eat without planning.
Nor explain to friends that it’s not calories she’s counting, but carbs.
Nor see how everyone stares at her as she administers her medicine
Or do mental maths while everyone’s chatting – even though she hates maths
Now is not the time to answer endless questions by curious school friends
Nor answer relentless calls from her parents asking what she’s eaten
Nor stop a game with her mates that she just needs a couple of secs to check …
Nor summon the courage to ask teacher, in front of everyone, if she can check her glucose, to make sure she doesn’t drop low.
Nor go to bed without getting her levels just so she can sleep without rising
Nor going to bed knowing she might have to force-feed herself snacks, half-asleep, or take more insulin
Or both, over again.
Nor summon the courage to ask teacher, in front of everyone, if she can check her glucose, to make sure she doesn’t drop low.
Nor go to bed without getting her levels just so she can sleep without rising
Nor going to bed knowing she might have to force-feed herself snacks, half-asleep, or take more insulin
Or both, over again.
Nor does she need to think of what it means to drop into a coma
Nor does she need to think of what it means to go so high her keytones take over and her reflux sets in before she spins into a ketotic coma
Nor does she need to think of what it means to spin into a ketotic coma,
Or the consequences of what might just happen then.
Or wonder why someone would deliberately choose to do the keto diet to make their own body eat at itself to drop weight.
No questions on routine, how active she is, or resting.
No calculations, examinations discussions, before prodding, no panic right now.
No.
This is not that moment.
Right now, she belongs to no-one,
No thing, but herself right now.
Collapsing in playful dizziness
Forcing out her giggling breath
In this moment, she picks a dandelion, full, bristling with delight, in an un-mown field with stems like raw silk.
Blows the fluff off in a single puffy burst
Laughter lifting her fair off this disaster
To where the weeds are overgrown in a parallel world
Where time stands still and dandelion grow wildly.
Right now, she belongs to no-one,
No thing, but herself right now.
Collapsing in playful dizziness
Forcing out her giggling breath
In this moment, she picks a dandelion, full, bristling with delight, in an un-mown field with stems like raw silk.
Blows the fluff off in a single puffy burst
Laughter lifting her fair off this disaster
To where the weeds are overgrown in a parallel world
Where time stands still and dandelion grow wildly.