* So many questions

Oh fate!  Such tricks and evil jokes you play on me as you dance and twist and spiral around.  Amused that I, your prodege, have the energy of the young, after such long and painful Rumpelstiltskin years.  Now, the gift of energy abounds.  The mind, a creative explosion of ideas irrupting regularly, like old faithful.  Yet, you have bestowed pain and limits on movement.  I grimmice and winge as I put a foot forward.  I cry and make a wrinkled face as I attempt to stand.  To feel pain and want to hide it, to pretend I am fine.  "Oh no.  No problem here."  And as the tears find their way from my eyes, the idea machine in my head is on fast forward.  Wasn't this supposed to happen in the youth of my years?  When I was young with body fit, my soul was broken, my spirit sad. Only sleep would surely bring comfort.

Now my bed is not my friend, and even as I try to rest and heal, my mind turfs me out from under the comforter to create.  Create what I sometimes wonder.  Everything that has been there and invisible to me for the last 64 years?  It's all there now, at the surface.  Bubbling and boiling, pushing and shoving and rioting to be next in line to emerge from the darkness into the light. 

Why now?  Why at this last moment?  Did I always wait for the last minute to get things done?  Do I have to hurry?  Is there time?  A voice told me "You have come here to die."  Is it true?  Or is it as I hope .. the old me fading away and dieing as a new me emerges. 

The pain stops me.  I move slowly, carefully.  Still it beings me to my knees.  The muscle in my side gives me sharp jabs and jolts as I try to ignor the fact I am wounded.  It will not allow me to forget.

The dust of this high dessert town, the heat and the silt which respect no closed door has got me down.  The grit on my hands as I attempt to work, read a book, or take a paper from the drawer.  It is May, it is hot.  It will be over soon, people tell me.  Accept?  Any of it?  The pain or the dust?  Not today.