Monklands Memories - Airdrie & Coatbridge areas

My Esthetic Gravity
       By Beverly Nason

I've not seen you in months
And we've met on the street.
You've always been nice
And I'm glad we could meet.

Today, I look fine. There's a smile I can muster.
I'm walking alone. My hair's brushed to a luster.
When I see you again, you may see the "real me".
How much should I tell you, that you do not see?

You ask how I am, with a tip of your hat.
I respond, "I've got M.G." and
You ask, "What is that?"
Already, I'm sorry I opened my yap.
I might just have smiled, at the tip of your cap.

So carefully now, I must size up the task
Of answering carefully, what you did ask.
Are you hurried for time? Or would you say a prayer?
Are you being polite? Or do you really care?

Do I want you to know? Really, what should I say?
"It's not much at all, and I'm really Okay."
In a second or two, I must make a reply.
Will it matter to you if we just say, "Goodbye"?

I know you quite well. You're expressing concern.
You really are bright and you're willing to learn.
You talk to my friends and they may say I'm ill.
You might feel shut out, and so tell you I will.

"It's a muscle disease but I've got it controlled.
When the brain sends a signal, it's weak I am told.
Sometimes, it's on target. I run and I walk.
Sometimes, it is blocked and I can barely talk."

"Sometimes, it's my left leg, sometimes it's my right.
Sometimes, my whole face droops? a grouchy old sight!
Sometimes, when I see you, your face is there twice.
Sometimes, I start choking? that's not very nice."

"There are times when just breathing is quite hard to do.
There are pills and some treatments. Our numbers are few.
We are tens among thousands? a rare breed indeed.
Our cause is mysterious. There's much more that we need."

"There are medical conflicts. Some drugs aren't yet pure.
With support groups and research, there still is no cure.
But a friendship like yours, gives me courage to fight.
Myasthenia Gravis and all? I'm all right.".............

 

Beverly Nason died in April 2005.  She was in her 80's and suffered from Myasthenia Gravis - which is the main theme of her poetry.