Will I ever hold a child in my arms?  
Protect it from genetic  harms?  
I can't even clean my room. 
I CAN ignore the gloom, 
the brainblur, 
the tribulation. 
But the unknown scares me to the Soul 
I have no choice  . . . I am no longer whole. 

One day at a  time, they say, 
(I even taught myself to pray) 
but no happy  Huntington's story in my life 
only the unknown and anguished strife 
no angered brows unfurled 
no smile back in place 
only text book diagnosis:muscular and 
mental deterioration ending, always, in a death. 

How can I keep one step ahead 
knowing my future, my feet are lead. 
I miss my past of spontaneous bliss, 
a dip in the ocean or a passionate kiss. 
My real life is narrow 
I grieve the energy to cope 
dancing without considering the toll 
on my spastic body or my crippled soul. 

But I can't let the past rule my today. 
In my dreams I still can play 
 and mourn it like my child died. 
For only then can I have pride, 
I shall live like a butterfly, 
released from its coccoon 
she is deep and strong 
*** 
her music is different now 
but it is still there somehow. 
 

Andrea Sykes 
September 2000 
 
 
 
 
 

Slaying The Dragon Poetry