In Fevers Grip

In the land of ten thousand lakes Made real by the rays of sunlight just so And the prism effects of century old glass And heated brow which causes my mind to see Without constraints of time or place or actuality The fear of death is shed for a while And only the beauty of mundane made holy By viral load of exhausted breaths In these moments you are here And we talk like adults But not equals for you are so far beyond me Though you cant see this A man of humility Though in this vision You appear as you did long ago Not quite the child of first meetings But not yet 13 either Twelve seems a good number A time when wonder still remains In the way you hold your body And a lack of apprehension and doubt That later touched your tone But there is not need for close distinctions Exactness or even possibility For this is just a fevered haze A dream where sleep and wakefulness exist Fully combined into a new mixture That the healthy cannot taste from We talk you and I of all things that matter And some that don’t The only things we don’t touch on Is what could have possibly gone wrong In this instance this isn’t even a question For all is right Even the virus threatening my existence Brings no fear now For it is the treasured friend That has let me into this place Where I can hear your voice And sense your smile in the too bright light And feel your hand in mine Which I will keep safe this time As you say Sleep

It’s remarkable when the rules and limitations of normal life can be shed and you can experience things which may not be real at least according to the way that the world is define normally, but when perception is allowed to let go of all that confines it by altering your state of mind, the miraculous is possible. In this early evening while the sun still shines through my hospital window, a sense of calm has settled over me, a feeling of contentment, perhaps even happiness.

When the fever is at it’s highest, that’s when perception really can change, and though I know I am alone in this room, I can hear a friend’s voice who is no longer here in this world. I don’t know that I can actually explain what this is like, only that for the moment I can forget he’s gone, and remembering what his voice sounds like doesn’t send me into tears but instead makes me smile. I can’t remember now what we talked about in this fantasy realm, only that we had lapsed into a companionable silence when the nurse came in.

I almost cried out for her to stop, knowing that she would shatter the illusion but knew I wasn’t here for visions but to hopefully get well, with the others who shared this illness, a club I never wanted to join. The nurse asks how I’m feeling and I utter something, then she discovers the oxygen is set too low. She turns it back up to the correct level, telling me that I’ll feel clearer headed in a few minutes.

I don’t tell her that being foggy isn’t so bad and that if they need the oxygen for someone else for a while, I’d gladly offer it. Something tells me that even if I did he wouldn’t come back. I don’t know how I know, but whatever it was that I perceived, I think it was intended as the goodbye we hadn’t been able to say in person. As my mind clears a bit, the tears start, and I lay my head on my pillow, with my arm across my eyes. I don’t know which is worse, never having to face that final moment or facing it and having it now be over.

A heartfelt thank you to all of you who have supported me and sent well wishes and prayers as I have had one tragedy added onto by coming down with coronavirus. Despite the isolation and social distancing, I know we will come through this with our humanity in tact for the outpouring of concern and empathy has been overwhelming which just emphasizes that even when we are at our worst, it is what is our best that shines forth.

Natalie Frank has had her poetry featured in several anthologies including Untimely Frost. Her fiction has been published in Haunted Waters Press, Weirdbook Magazine, Siren’s Call Publications, Lycan Valley Press and Zero Fiction among others. Her collection of poetry, Disguised I Breathe, In Love I Hold, can be found on Amazon under her pen name, Taye Carrol.

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You can find links to all of the articles, stories, fiction and poetry I publish on Medium here. Thank you for reading and for supporting Mental Gecko.