Kidney Stone

The rain was with me,

splashing the windows like

a marching band in

perfect unison with the

sidewalk.

I couldn’t tell you what

day it was, but I can tell

you I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t leave the bed

as much as I wanted to.

A kidney stone held me

captive.

Somewhere along the way

I came to believe I had to

perform a certain way,

like a circus clown attracting

sales.

Somewhere along the way

validation of my art became

my compass of personal

worth.

And somewhere along the

way I decided to let it

all go and I vowed

to stand with my creations.

I still don’t know what

day it was but that kidney

stone was starting to

move and I was trapped

in pain — might have

been the worst pain

of my life.

All my desire to create, to paint,

to dream, to function

was completely gone.

Creating was something for

other people.

I couldn’t even write

about it. All I could do was

beg the hot shower to ease the

pain.

Some days painting isn’t

an option.

Some days the body comes first,

even over caretaking.

All the ways I created

an identity of who I am —

on hold.

All I could be was pain.

So I stayed with warmth, water, and breath,

and let that be enough.