Poetry-4-Balance 2025

Invisible Shadows – by Stana Peete

In the stillness where silence clings tight,
An unseen war brews out of sight,
A world that wobbles in a dizzying whirl,
Each step I take, a chasm unfurls.

The struggle whispers, yet it roars within,
Amidst a sea of faces, I’m lost in the din.
Every moment a trial, each breath a test,
As I navigate spaces that leave me unrest.

Screens flicker and pulse, a seductive glow,
But they amplify chaos, pulling me low.
Harsh lights pierce like daggers, cutting the air,
In this tangled web, clarity’s rare.

Crowds rush around me, a storm left unchecked,
While I seek solid ground, feeling circumspect.
Uneven terrain jeers with each faltering stride,
A dance with uncertainty, where I must confide.

Scents swirl in the air, sharp and intense,
Overwhelming and heavy, they steal my defense.
Each breath a reminder of battles I wage,
In a realm that can’t see my invisible cage.

Yet from this struggle, a spark of resolve,
A quiet strength blooms, as darkness dissolves.
Though unseen, my journey weaves threads of grace,
I search for the calm in this frantic race.

So here’s to the fighters, though hidden from view,
To those who endure, who rise and push through.
In a world that may overlook the storms that we bear,
We carry our light, our courage laid bare.

In Between – by Rachel Booker

Swirling, pulling, whirling, what I feel, what I see,
I can move, I’m scared to move, I am in between.
Floating particles, blizzard air, waves like the sea,
I can see, I cannot see clearly, I am in between.
You look fine, you’re walking well, they are so very keen,
I’m in a dream, I don’t feel seen, I am in between.
Floor bouncing, feather legs, the cars are pulling me,
I can walk, I cannot walk alone, I am in between.
I am so tired, no energy, can’t remember who I used to be,
I am me, I am not the same me, I am in between.
I’m overwhelmed, feeling faint, don’t want to cause a scene,
I am ashamed, try to be brave, I am in between.
I keep trying, pushing myself, be grateful, positivity.
I am only human, I don’t feel human, I am in between.

Boracherras – by Michael Cyr

Sometimes she was a coin flipped into a deep well,
Sometimes loose marbles on a Lazy Suzan
Reality was a suggestion
Each step falling through a crust of snow

Her sister had them
She’d lock herself in her room for two days,
But otherwise didn’t mention them much
Her mother had them
She called them “Boracherras”
Little drunk spells

Eyes clamped like hurricane shutters
Whirling, centrifugal violence
She could only wait to bottom out,
Earthbound and empty

Vestie Haiku – by Martha Hall

Just living my life
Until the floor flew away
And never came back

Shrink – by Polly Ernest

Shrink
I think I need a shrink
Because my life has shrunk
And it is squeezing the air out of me

Or do I need a shrink
Because life got too big
Unruly
Expansive
Unstoppable
Wild as dreams
And that I have shrunk?

Broad shoulders sloping
I am left clinging to my cliff edge

Sands of time below
And pouring past me
Waves of self doubt
Undercutting my usual certainty

I think
I need
A shrink

Tuesday – Afternoon by Erin Mattson

Tuesday afternoon.
Normal turned to chaos
Room turned to doubles
Doubled over the trash can
Destiny in a moment, marked in my calendar.

Time behind the wheel turned to dust while
Work turned to the battlefield beyond reconciliation
Misunderstood and misdiagnosed.

Weeks turned to months.
Months turned to years.
Endless dollars handed over triggered pause
No more doctors
Let time heal.

Blurs turned more focused
Lights turned more tolerable
Rooms turned more stable
The hollow shell of myself
Hardly seeing the world
Could have conversations and smile once again.

With time on my side
Work, joy, life
Became possible

Growing in my career
Growing in my friendships
Growing in my values

The journey is far from over
The world still feels a little blurry
My head and body still carry the pressure
But here I sit writing this
On a Tuesday afternoon.

Breathe – by Mark Vogt

Deeply deeply deeply
I breathe

Gently gently gently
I breathe

Slowly slowly slowly
I breathe

Longing longing longing
I breathe

Loving loving loving
I breathe

Deeply deeply deeply
I breathe

If I Could Only by Mark Vogt

If I could only stand still
If I could only walk without sway
If I could only have the will
If I could only make it one day

If I could only move free
If I could only be without pain
If I could only again be me
If I could only make some gain

If I could only go back in time
If I could only start over again
If I could only reclaim what’s mine
If I could only then begin

If I could only…

Dizzy – by Kassi Kelsey

Dizzy I am
Unbalanced I am
Scared I am
Frustrated I am
Lost I am
Defeated I am

Creative I am
Mother I am
Lover I am
Magical I am
Nurturing I am
Blessed I am

I am me

Not Real – by Erin Spiry

I walk and feel faint, I no longer have the same gait. I look up and down or side to side with rocking and off balanced not a smooth glide. When will I ever feel normal again? I wish the way I feel right now was pretend. The constant disorientation- is this even real? If only other people knew how I feel. They would have compassion and understand if they experienced what I experience first hand. One day I hope things change as I am tired and weary of feeling so strange. Hope is all I have to get me through, I am so tired of feeling blue. I cry so many days I am just trying to get by. Rocking, floating, swaying like I am high. This is not normal and false the way I feel. I have to remind myself what I experience is not truly real.

The Man with the Hammer – by Dorinda MacDowell

The man with the hammer frightens me
He gets inside my head and knocks me from side to side
No-one sees him; I certainly don’t
But he’s there doing his best to panic me
Mostly, he succeeds
I have to lower myself down
Very slowly
And wait for the inner torment to pass. I hate that man

Small but Mighty – by Michele Gerlach

Looking back on so many “What if’s”
It is hard to define just what this is
They say the vestibular system is so small
Yet it’s destruction is mighty tall.

One night I sat down in my bed
The room began spinning, but really it was in my head.
I thought how strange this should happen to me
I laid on down and let it be.

That feeling it never went away
At least not the very next day
A week, a month and then two
Months, then years. PT and OT, what else could I do?

Forever it changed the connections in my brain
Dizziness, brain fog, vision, fatigue and pain
All of these things, they never would leave
Frustrated and searching for answers, but nobody believed.

So many doctors, I heard so many times –
“Your symptoms are all in your head, you will be just fine.”
But one day I found a group online
A group that understood, I had found my tribe.

My life had changed and my heart had moaned
I grieved for the me I had once known
But it helped to find others who undestood
Who were in my shoes and knew things nobody could

I may not have all of the answers for which I searched
But, the support has helped take away some of the hurt.
I share my story because so little is known
About this tiny, but mightly destructive vestibular zone.

Act of Balance – by Cathy Cauley

There is a constant balancing battle inside my head.
Everyday there is an uninvited, unseen visitor showing up at my brains door.
When the visitor arrives, I do what I can to not allow this unwelcomed entry. Then with force it comes in to spin my world upside-down.
I realize, I am in it, and I have to find my-
Act of Balance.

In spite of my daily exhausting struggle, and knowledge of this unwelcomed relationship.
I fight to find a place we can co-exist. Where I gain the upper hand in how the day will go.
It’s the journey to catch my-
Act of Balance.

This everyday fight goes unseen by the world outside. There’s no wound to see, no bandage to show. The unwelcomed visitor gets the upper hand on more occasions than I would like.
Yet I know my life is not defined by this daily struggle.
I thrive, despite it.
I know that I am not alone in this-
Act of Balance.

Small Victory – by Randall Cox

I was in bed
And I awoke with a dread
Which was in my head
As within it was a severe spin
Which didn’t feel like a win
On my face was no grin
This feeling, I wanted to store away in a bin
No other feeling was ever akin
Was this punishment for a sin?
Within my head was such a twirling
And a swirling
That I thought most others could have no conception
Of this perception
I felt like staying in bed
But I needed to be fed
Getting up would risk a fall
Whether or not to do so was a tough call
However, gingerly I got up
And drank a smoothie from a cup
As I didn’t get out to a mall
And I had to hang on to the wall,
My victory was small
Yet, I didn’t tumble and fall

Mother Mary’s Hand – by Marga Fripp

for Jesse, with eternal gratitude, on his birthday, interrupted by my vertigo

What would my soul do, my love,
without you?
How would my fragile
inner ear find balance
again, if you were not here
to catch me,
and steady me back
to the heartbeat
of this life together,
to the rhythm of our singing
souls, running a playlist
we have never heard before,
and playing it so loud
that I get dizzy, spinning
with the heated dance of our days
and every promise we made
to each other and the gods
that we can climb this mountain,
together, to the height
of our highest dreams,
dreams not just high but sweet
like honeysuckle,
that in my mother tongue means
Mother Mary’s Hand, the one
that points toward the labyrinth
of love, where we must learn
to step lighter on its path
of crystals and prayers,
to carry less, and to grow
before we reach the center,
and when we lose balance,
to trust
that love, like an open hand,
catches us before we fall.

Vestibular haiku – by Kim Bell

Foggy Brain Today
Migraine or Crystals or Neck
Here We Go Again

I Don’t Exist – by Jan Price

I DON’T EXIST……a true story

I was in a pub some years ago
and I met a man called Dai
He asked me where I came from
and I answered with a sigh
Oh I don’t come from anywhere
but I have been here before
I know a woman…Annie
said the man, she lives next door
He disappeared for a while
and then came back in the bar
he said, you can go to see her
but she doesn’t know who you are
I said, she is my stepmother
I lived with her for years
she made my life a living hell
a vale of grief and tears.
I’m not on any census
I’m not on any list
So who endured the slapping
On whom did land the fist.
My Father was in hospital
gasping his last breath
A friend of mine had told me
that he was near to death
The nurse asked him about relations
he said that he had none
he said he had no daughter
and swore he had no son.
He died alone that dismal day
I wasn’t filled with woe
but thought if there’s funeral
then maybe I should go
There wasn’t many people there
Just another woman and I
I said I am his daughter
she said no need to lie
He has left me all his assets
and there is a long long list
but as for any daughter
I’m afraid they don’t exist.
Am I just an obscure wraith
just made of light and mist
no substance to my body
just some unwanted wisp
I don’t remember getting hugged
or ever getting kissed
You don’t get much attention
when you never did exist
When my Mother died did I die too?
and maybe what is worse
There is no me. I don’t exist
and neither does this verse.

Cycles – by Anthony Scoble

I’m in my final cycle
My soul has paid it’s dues
I’ve walked this path of broken glass
Not wearing socks or shoes
Pain has been my saviour
My weakness and my vice
I wore my mask a thankless task
It’s how I rolled the dice

Always Hoping – by Carolyn Buck

My head doesn’t know where my legs are going
Or could it be the other way round?
Take your eyes off the path ahead
And you might find yourself on the ground.
Tests and appointments prove useless
As you can’t get answers at all.
Turn around too quickly
You could end up facing a wall.
In this uncertain era of referrals
Causes anxiety and dread.
No matter how positive you try
It’s all going round in your head!
No answers, no appointments, as life is passing you by
You wake up from sleep and sigh
Here we go , another day.!!

The Vortex – by Tara McNulty

I struggle to find my way out of the vortex; this spinning, tilting, unsteady world.

I grasp onto the walls for a sense of security, only to watch as the room tips diagonally or the walls move sideways.

I feel for the steady ground beneath my feet, but
suddenly feel it move like an earthquake shaking the Earth’s core…no one feels it but me.

This vortex has engulfed me alone.

I long to stop the spinning, to hide from the lights that are too bright & the noises that are too loud. The nausea engulfs me.

This vortex has a name.
Vestibular Migraine. Such a simple name for a condition that has stolen so much from me: my schooling, my ability to drive or ride in a car, my social life, my freedom.

But it has not taken the love of
my family, the joy my pets bring me, my lifelong best friend. It has not taken my fight or my spirit. I won’t let it.

This vortex may make me nauseous. It may make my world spin and tilt. But I refuse to let it conquer me.

Holding On – by Gina Grega

This new me
Grips cart handles for stability.
The grocery, a sudden chamber of horrors-
It all hurts: the lights, the sounds, and the space
So much space
And yet I don’t know where I am in any of it.
Except for deep, deep
In grief
For my old life
And it’s confidence,
It’s direction,
You should have seen the way I navigated space
With all the confidence of a compass
But that was 8 years ago
I was practically a baby then
And now here I am old,
Shambling, shuffling
Heart pounding as I pass paper towels,
Hands shaking as I put carton to cart,
Hoping I can just make it out
And get back to a place
Where it felt so good
To have nothing to hold onto.

Cervical Spondyosis – by Judith Brigley

Cervical Spondyosis

At twenty-two, recovering from the crash
I knew the stitches would be plucked,
the scars fade to pencil lines, my head
would still retain those lines of Gray’s

Elegy, I thought at first were shaken off
as I floated blind over the rider’s head.
Fifty years later, I woke to find the floor
was wobbling and I could not stand

as if I hovered on a moving wave of sea.
I crawled to a wall to find solidity, fretting
at travel sickness, queasy as a channel

crossing. A whirring sea-shell swish
made the inner ear an early suspect.
Instead, the broken collar flapping

bones, the jarring of the head hitting
the road, appeared to heal and find
an equilibrium. Instead, the neck nursed

itself until old age of tear and wear
escorted muscle pain into the cracks,
stiffened the sinews – a spondylosis

of the neck and the world’s askew.
We think we have escaped the wreck,
but it’s a balance we have yet to pay.

Meniere’s – by Robin Simpson

Sickness has me on the floor once again
So I lean against the toilet, like an old, familiar friend.
How long will I be on this turning carousel?
“God help me” is all that I can yell!
How much time has passed,I do not know,but to the bed is where I know I must go.
I close my eyes, lay still and try to sleep,but for now, spinning is all that I will reap.
I take my medicine, they call meclizine, and pray real soon that I’ll dream a little dream.
I awake to find the attack gone for now, and i find myself a little grateful somehow.
The depression starts to creep up on me.
As I research,my answers just inconsistencies.
There is also the constant buzzing in my ear(the 24-hour humm),So
why does this disease make the Dr’s look dumb?
My final thoughts bring back mememories of all of the stares.
I am not drunk,they call it Meniere’s.

Witches of Boscastle Selling the Wind – by Samantha Molloy

Here, where the earth cobbles its voice,
and cliffs inhale the Atlantic’s salty language,
the women speak the secret dialect of gales.
hands cupped around the horizon,
they’ve learned to bottle breath, spirit of the storm,
to hold a tempest in their palms,
whispers of ocean roaring against their lineless skin.

these witches barter in elements,
trade breeze for a birthright, gale for grit.
to the girl arriving, brittle as driftwood,
named after saints yet seeking sin,
they crouch like salt rimmed shadows,
murmur songs of liberation tucked
into the cracks of their limestone souls.

they promise stories spun by oceans,
wind stitched through the ribs of this land,
and though the air is taut with unspoken warnings,
she buys a sliver of freedom,
lets it whistle at the edges of her tongue,
her spirit unspooling into this hymn of tides.

here, on the jagged edge of the world,
they tell her to let the gust lift her,
to carry her rebellion in whispers,
to be a storm that no one can silence.
and she learns: the wind is not sold;
it is sung, always waiting for someone
to rewrite its chorus.

Round and Round I Go – by Lisa Serrano

Round and round I go
Will it ever stop
I don’t know

Day after day I struggle to survive
After all the doctors, tests and medications they provide

How did I get here
Will it ever end
Will prayer, diets or exercise ever change the nightmare I am in

Each day with no relief
I wait patiently for change
In the darkness I stay
until it is my day

Tomorrow I will have a new attitude
As God provides strength for a good mood
He tells me hold on one more day
Healing is coming your way

Round and round I go
Another day of hope
Learn to let it all go

My days are full of stress
Hoping and praying for the Best

Round and round I go
Will it ever end
Nobody really knows

Untouchable – by Jen Wright

Untouchable

She was shut closed like an ancient book
Years of dust and grime sticking the pages together
Unreachable, on the highest shelf
Fragile to the touch

Easily tearable
Simply breakable
Her layers paper thin

No longer shared
Her cover unattractive and faded
Unappealing
Her story lying unread

In the library of life she was overlooked
The space between her head and her heart blank
No longer able to be read
Not willing to be shared
Untouchable

The Monster in my Head – by Michelle Leahy

Here I am again with my Vestibular Nerve at full volume creating havoc with my life.
Spending hours at a time staring at the walls or tv until the wobbling inside my head eases off.
The constant vice like pressure squeezing inside my head leading to the painful twisting sensation in my tummy and then the dreaded nausea.
The battle of keeping your eyes and head as still as possible so as not to wake the monster inside your head.
The dizzy swimming sensation that never lets up giving you a feeling of falling over and legs like jelly.
All these things increase and decrease their intensity constantly like the monster has a volume control.
Standing Bending walking reading everything you take for granted makes symptoms worse but each day you have to force yourself to take a shower put on your makeup wash the pots sort the clothes keep a clean house and make the dinner. Will the Monster inside my head please go to sleep.

Dizzy Journey – by Aeila Syed

Oh dear I felt a spin
I’m throwing up, please get the bin
Shopping for me is a nightmare
And My vision is no longer clear
My head is always pounding
And I cannot gauge my surrounding
People think I look fine
But I can’t even walk in a straight line
My doctors think I’m just stressed
And treatments are another quest
Medicines don’t even help
They say eat healthy like kale and kelp
I wish no-one ever has to suffer a vestibular disease
Because I’m triggered by storms or even a light breeze
My vestibular journey has been tiring and long
But I will never give up and I’m still strong

The Fall – by Bob Crescenzo

From idealism
Safety
Beliefs
Long term hard work and efforts
History
Trust
Dignity
From grace during an expected meditative walk. An actual fall.
Yet, today I was saved by my cane, a tree, and a large soft pile of crimson leaves.
Head pounding, heart racing, tears forming
Holding on and pulling myself up as the world spun around me.
Sitting on a beautiful stone walk by myself.
I am ok.
The cane, tree, leaves and my physical self-pulled me through.
The list of negative feelings I had were replaced by realizing I still had to walk back home.
I may not have the energy , balance, or ability to win this fight, but I have the skill, knowledge and hope I always trusted .
I am home, ego bruised, embarrassed by my fight with gravity, but safe and whole.
Confirmation of getting through this lifts me up.

Commuting – by Tim Boardman

I drove to work beneath a cloud
that drifted low, like a shroud
above the Wharfe, where valleys deep
lay wrapped in morning’s misty sleep.

When all at once, upon the verge,
a host of golden blooms emerged—
beside the road, beneath the sky,
their yellow heads were lifted high.

Like the streetlamps stretching row on row,
they shone beneath my headlights’ glow.
Hundreds swayed in sprightly dance,
a sight that caught my fleeting glance.

The bending grass bowed low in vain,
for daffodils outshone their plain.

No wave could match their golden glee,
nor dancing light upon the sea.
I gazed and gazed, yet little thought
what joy their simple beauty brought.

For oft, when lost in pensive dreams,
upon my couch in shadowed beams,
they flash upon that inward eye—
A glimpse of spring that lingers by.

and then my heart with pleasure fills,
and dances with the daffodils.

Waves of Vestibular Life – by Amy Lusk

Back and forth, round and round, slipping and sliding.. trying to keep my feet on solid ground.
My mind is chaos, the world an ocean, my body is the rocking boat.
I try and try with all my might to keep myself afloat.
This is my daily fight, the waves of life.

Dedicated to the Dedicated – by Anthony Veglia

I greet
We meet
I listen
Openly, they lay it all out

She spins
He stumbles
They struggle
Truly, I seek their stories

She’s scared
He’s discouraged
They’re down
Deeply, I wish to raise them up

I teach
They ask
I answer
Finally, it has a name

I offer
They accept
We begin
Honestly, they’ll do anything

I instruct
They perform
We advance
Amazingly, they excel

They move
I guard
We smirk
Silly, but the gait belt is safe

They labor
I encourage
They inspire
Admittedly, no one is perfect

Spins reduce
Balance recovers
Smiles return
Visibly, the progress is clear

We retest
They’ve grown
It’s objective
Currently, they no longer need me

I nod
We hug
They wave
Bittersweetly, I wish to never see them again

Possible recurrence
Spins return
We repeat
Unfortunately, things happen

They’re grateful
I’m grateful
Life Rebalanced
Sincerely, a gift on their path

Dizziness unsettles
Hope arrives
Rehabilitation recenters
Fully, I am dedicated to the dedicated

New – by Careen Hannouche

This is new.

I’m dizzy.
I’m unstable.
I’m fearful.

This is new.

I’m looking for answers.
I’m having trouble explaining.
I’m lonely.

This is new.

I’m unable to work.
I’m unable to do simple activities.
I’m unable.

This is new.

I’m reading and learning.
I’m finding others who understand.
I’m hopeful.

This is new.

I’m scared.
I’m trying.
I’m failing.
I’m coping.

This is new.

I’m starting slow.
I’m staying positive.
I’m using meditation, medication and mantras.

This is new.

I’m watching for triggers.
I’m looking for glimmers.
I’m not letting my bucket overflow.
I’m planning and pacing, taking it slow.

This is new.

I’m doing more than before.
I’m smiling more than before.
I’m capable.
I’m able.

This is new.

I’m the same me.
I’m a different me.

This is new. The new me.

Mantra – by Careen Hannouche

Wobbly and weary
Fearful yet faithful.
Back and forth,
Different yet the same.
Confident, calm
Stable, strong.
Rinse, repeat,
Keep going.