Those of you who suffer from osteoarthritis know about joint failures and replacements. Surgeons want you to wait until your screams bleed because new joints have a shelf life. Taking a step is like trying to jog pulling an oxygen tank. Depression takes over. Although you know it’s situational, you can’t shake the darkness. Helper joints work harder, and the pain radiates into your past. Inflammation starts fires.
In this memoir poem, I honor my left knee for all it’s done for me. Last May 2023, I was finally able to get it replaced. Here are the opening lines. Thank you for visiting Hotel to read the poem…
Take a Knee
Gently. No deep cutting
around my old friend.
For 72 years she’s held me up.
Her and her partner. Taught me how to
pick up my legs. Drag my body….
If you enjoy my memoir poems, you may want to read my poetry collection about me and my mother.
Her uncle asks, Do you love your mother? Can a daughter doubt her love for her mother who is navigating Alzheimer’s? Can she learn to love the stranger her mother is becoming?
Amazon Best-Selling Author, Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir (EIF-Experiments in Fiction, 2022); Pushcart Nominee (2022, 2023); Facebook: Barbara Harris Leonhard /barbara.leonhard; Instagram: @meelosmom123; Twitter @BarbaraLeonhar4
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 
Leave a comment