A Very Short Reflection on Falls of No Known Origin

As our changing brains advance

Our before-selves fall away.

Some of us can barely make a sound.

Some have tremors.

Some are painfully slow.

But we all lose ourselves

To the ground.

Fallers: Persons or things that fall.

When I was officially diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2009 my biggest medical problem was falling:

All my jeans had holes in the knee from hard landings on sidewalks.

I slathered heavy makeup over my black and blue eyes.

And I developed a phobic-like fear of walking which is with me still.

Sometimes I am afraid to walk across a room.

Is it my fault?

My family and friends urge:

You don’t watch where you’re going!

You don’t lift your feet!

You don’t walk; you walk- and- talk!

You go too fast!

You go too slow!

Often, we, the fallers, have no such answers about why we fall nor why we can’t catch a stumble before we hit the ground. We are often clueless. We know all too well the psychic pain of losing control of the seemingly simple act of walking.

We start out upright.

Suddenly we are in the air.

Then on the ground.

Our thoughts, our vision never catch up with the insult - a curb, a pothole, our very own feet.

These falls sneak up on us. How?

We are victims of implausible demons with curb-like feet.

They trip us in the day; in low light; in the night.

These demons are on the frontline of the flight to the ground.

They are everywhere,

They are nowhere.

They are often not seen.

They hide.

We do not notice them.

Then we fall.

Thumbnail picture: “A Tree.” iPad art by Betsy Vierck