Stroke

Sudden existence. Awareness.
Sounds and shapes.
Pain and fear.
Reaching out, sensation.
No comprehension, no understanding.
Knowing you should know, that you knew all of this.
But it’s just not there.
Every memory, every word locked away.
Like those credit cards you put in a cup, filling it with water.
Putting it in the freezer.
But it’s glass, no, plastic.
You can see them, know they are there, but can’t get to them.
Harder and harder, you hit it, trying, but you can’t.
Day after day, the shapes become faces.
The sounds become voices.
Slowly becoming someone, maybe you again.