UNIVITED GUEST

It presses beneath her skin,
a rhythm not her own—
subtle, insistent, growing.
She crouches on her haunches,
fingers pressing bruises into color,
searching for proof of its shape,
its boundaries, its name.

Some moments, she feels it rise—
a slow tide curling through her veins,
sinking its weight into her chest,
whispering in the language of fractures
and things unhealed.
It’s hers, and yet not—
a guest she never invited,
rearranging her insides
to fit its appetite.

To carry disease is to carry questions:
What is mine?
What belongs to it?
Where does the map of me
end and the hollow begin?

She paces the perimeter of her days,
each room too small to hold her—
the carpet, oak, limestone,
each step familiar but strange.
Even the air feels foreign,
thick with her own breath,
her body heavy,
like it’s borrowed or stolen.

Outside, the world waits:
grassy latitudes, buttonbush,
a horizon unmoved by her war.
She stands at the threshold,
afraid of the silence that lingers,
of what it might tell her.

But the disease is patient.
It will not be left behind,
its rhythm a part of her now.
Still, she imagines stepping forward—
the sun a chariot,
the ground solid beneath her,
her heartbeat her own again,
steady, steady, steady.

Description:

"Uninvited Guest" explores the relationship between the body and disease, particularly how illness reshapes one’s sense of identity and physicality. This poem aligns with the theme of Discovery by delving into the internal landscapes illness reveals—the blurred boundaries between self and other, and the resilience found in navigating that uncharted terrain. It reflects the process of discovering what it means to coexist with something beyond control, yet profoundly personal.