Schizophrenia...quick
word association leaves
me with an overwhelming
"shattered" as I mull
over the word like
thick oatmeal in
my brain.
I can almost say
the word, schizophrenia,
but I can't say "it"
and "her" in the same
sentence like the
large African-American
therapist who tossed
the word lightly in
the air as if it
were a beachball.
I have always compared
my daughter to a
stained-glass window,
a million bright points
of light and color,
barrier to direct sunlight,
unbearable rainbow beauty,
but
shattered...nonetheless.
I hang onto hope
as I pray by my
stained glass window,
bargaining on my knees
for a miracle.