the back burner

advice

two days ago i understood,
as if for the first time,
that i am unwell. let me tell you,
awareness came down
like a bucketful of water,
electrifying and unexpected,
but oh-so-liberating to say
out loud, "i am ill."
once you're wet,
you can't get wetter:
a magnificent excuse.

you can get sicker,
of course,
you can always get sicker,
more wrinkled,
and suddenly old
when you were fresh
and just fine only yesterday.
there are degrees to this,
and they can be charted.
graphed. diagnosed.
meddled-with.

but once you transgress
the border of wellness,
it doesn't matter much
how far beyond it you get,
you'll always have some wisdom
from outside the jurisdiction
of the well and the well-balanced.
souls ripen differently outside
where fewer people live,
something to do with
the washing away
of pesticides.

once you come back
(but some of us never do)
you will have
their sympathy
and some of their fear.
it might look like disdain.
don't be surprised.
they will only be trying to shrug off
the new smell of change
and their own itchy feeling
of denial. (i have
felt this way, myself.)