It is in visible, the range,
between the infra, ultra waves,
though rays beyond the human eye,
radio, gamma, micro, X.
So what the light that I reflect -
what spectrum is it I exude,
illumination, candlepower,
lighthouse in spin, blink on and off?
I cannot cloak my Parkinson’s -
invisibility on tap -
determined terms that dominate,
unless some symptoms medicate -
the calmer quiver, further walk,
a better sleep, pills and a glass.
Few see exhausted energy,
insomnia of early hours,
the joints I roll - a vape puff helps -
slide scapula - sounds mafia -
sup tonic, quinine bubbles up.
They cheer, drag racing on the track,
as I play ball to bridge the gap,
both heel and toe, like synchromesh,
attempt, engage first gear at least.
Some give me stick that carry mine,
a tightrope walker balance pole -
feel ferule cat stuck up a tree -
as concentrate to keep in line,
stare pathway, sole on pilgrimage.
Published by Spillwords, World Parkinson's Day, 11th April 2024