Poetry page PD Parkinson’s is a disease of diminishment, much like life itself and is a blessing, in its way. The mind, accustomed as it is to
Poetry page
PD
Parkinson’s
is a disease of diminishment,
much like life itself
and is a blessing, in its way.
The mind, accustomed as it is
to giving orders to the feet, is sometimes lacking . . . in imagination, I mean.
It says the same old thing, time and again, time and again.
Stuck in its rut, it tells the stuttering feet to move.
“Get going,” it says, “go, go straight ahead like you’ve always done.
Just look where you’re going and go!”
But “Listen, now,” say the feet.
“I’m done with that! Forget your straight lines,
stop your worrying about speed,
about getting us there on time.
Relax and take a breath.
There are more important things in life,
you know—enjoyment is what I’m after.
So follow me and stop the bossing.
I like to play. I like to have some fun.
I’ll get us there my way.
I’ll dance!
I’ll sway to a rhythm,
not think about the where so much
but focus on the how
and shift my weight from side to side
from side to side and back again
and when I’m ready
I’ll slide my left and then my right
I’ll take a step and then another
and maybe even turn around
and do it all to that same beat
and sway and slide and step and turn
and sway and slide and step and turn
and feel the smoothness of my moves
and feel my spirit lift me up,
and know a smile is on my face
and maybe I’ll just decide
to keep on going
when I’ve arrived.
The getting there
is such fun.”
“Hmmmmm . . . ,” said the mind, a bit chagrined, never thought of it
that way.”
~Bill Denham, Portland OR
PARKINSON'S DANCE
First Parkinson's Dance class today.
23/7/2013
Parkinson's Dance what can I say
It was a great time we all had today
We introduced ourselves at the start
While clapping hands aren't we smart
Started slowly with warmup exercises
Nice and gentle with no surprises
Then with our partners face to face
Each others movements we had to trace
Following this was a Serbian dance
This way then that they made us prance
The music was loud and the rhythm fast
I was not sure how long I would last
Holding hands with those by our side
There was nowhere for anyone to hide
So we had to dance like it or not
At least it wasn't a bloody Foxtrot
Fourteen steps then stamp your feet
Fourteen back we had to repeat
Then only six steps we needed to take
The music had us all wide awake
Three steps inward nice and slow
And three knee bends not too low
Repeat these steps the other way
Back to the start hip hip hooray
Keep repeating this 'til the music stops
This tired out a few nanas and pops
Us Parkos and partners think we're tough
But by this time we'd had enough
We warmed down and then one by one
Said what we thought of what we'd done
Phillip our instructor liked what he heard
As there wasn't even one negative word
Believe it or not I don't really care
We all enjoyed ourselves dancing there
And there is one thing we all know
We'll be back again for another go
My love is no Snow Queen,
though we do speak,
with some regularity,
the word frozen
or the words freezing up
to describe her state—
an apt metaphor
when I see her feet
unable to move
as if they were frozen in place,
frozen to the carpet,
a book in hand,
frozen to the tarmac,
waiting, standing, the car door open
frozen to the lawn,
in her particular Parkinson’s limbo,
shears and trimmings
held out for balance
as if making an offering,
or a supplication.
But this disease of diminishment
does not touch her heart,
her large, warm, playful,
open heart that moves
with ease from tango
to waltz to jitterbug,
from minuet to bebop,
and so we take what is
and laugh and weep
and dance our way
through each day.
