Asleep from the World (A Poem to Inspire)
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Profile: Rachael Brook
My wife Kathy once worked as a carer in a respite home for people who for one reason or another were confined to spending their lives in a wheelchair. While working there she met a cheerful and intelligent young lady named Rachael, who though living with cerebral palsy and having little control of her arms, body, or speech, was an inspiration to all around her. (Rachael calls herself "the Twisted Fairy")
On getting to know her, Kathy found that Rachel was a mouth artist and actually had a studio and gallery where her work was displayed. The result was the exchange of artwork. Kathy stitched an art quilt titled "TheTwisted Fairy" for Rachael in exchange for the above painting "Asleep From the World". Unfortunately we don't have a photo of the quilt.
While working at the respite centre Kathy actually suffered a severe back injury which ended her working career, and along with an existing condition of scoliosis, left her in constant pain. This, along with more recent diagnosis of fibromyalgia and sleep apnea have made the painting "Asleep from the World" even more appropriate.
This poem is inspired by the painting, but I wish to stress that it is my own interpretation and not that of either the artist or the owner.
Asleep From the World
Storm clouds gather overhead
They create a swirling sky.
She throws the mirror on the floor,
Her reflection makes her cry.
To all she is an angel,
But her wings have never flown.
Her body's bent and twisted,
But it's all she's ever known.
The Sandman offers refuge,
A safe harbour from all cares.
She reclines upon her wooden bed
On a quilt of patchwork squares.
Though the world around is tainted
With cruelty, greed, and death,
Her slumber is her haven,
And she smiles with every breath.
Cruel words and sideways glances
Fade away as eyelids close.
Dreams replace frustrations
As she lies in sweet repose.
As the clock strikes four, she's dreaming
In the midst of REM,
Mixed up thoughts crisscross her mind,
Scenes from now and then.
There's an old abandoned graveyard,
Headstones all green with moss.
But one stands out among them all,
An ivy covered cross.
Who lies in the grave beneath
Is not for us to see,
The inscription on the headstone
Written simply R.I.P.
The Angel's soul is beautiful,
Though her hands are clawed and curled,
And at night she is invincible,
Asleep from the world.
More by this Author
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