No Man is an Islet
Speaking of the bell toll of mortality,
Donne proclaimed no man an island.
“Every man’s death diminishes me
because I am a part of mankind.”
I was not.
I danced in the ether,
swabbed and prepped and ready for piercing.
I drank moonlight through juice box straws,
awoken from sleep in trembled panics.
I rode the waves of high and low like a carnival ride you can’t disembark,
the thousandth trip rocking your body one hit too hard.
I dogpaddled breathlessly in an a-1-sea,
treading band-aid-smelling, fast-acting waters.
When something of a dream came floating past.
Thousands of broken beta cells, each with a story.
They reached out and grabbed my hand,
disrupting my soliloquy.
Seeking relief, support,
an answer, a friend, a cure.
We each struggle with the undertow,
but together ride the crests and falls.
Thousands of lancetted hands,
clasped together in friendship.