I'm currently taking a Human Biology (Anatomy and Physiology) class
to finish out my AA degree with Highline Community College.
My teacher loves variety in our weekly assignments.
Last week I had to come up with descriptions for the movements
I make using specific muscles.
Did you know your Sartorius helps you cross your legs?
Yeah, I didn't either until last week.
We've had a couple more unique projects,
like a couple weeks ago when I had to draw (and label) my skeletal system.
So far I've gotten full points (20/20) on all my assigments.
This week's assignment (which was due today) what definitely different.
A 400 word poem of love...
to a part of my brain.
I got 20/20 again. Thought I might share it.
Again... 400 word minimum, people.
My poem was 401.
403 if you count the title. :)
For more info on the function of this portion of the brain
(and why I wrote what I wrote), look here or here.
I must sadly admit
I often forget you are there
but then you hurt me.
A trip a slip or a fall –
Oh no! A sprain!
And I, in agony, wonder how?
It wasn’t always this way.
We were once in sync,
working together,
playing together,
getting along great.
But then I got older,
and I think you got slower,
and that’s when it all went wrong.
Am I to blame?
A few pounds here,
some extra weight there,
and maybe not as active.
My failure? No yours!
I once had grace to dance.
Now I sit and watch.
Tennis anyone?
You clumsily remind me,
it's better I don’t.
It’s funny I knew
it was always you who helped.
And yet
I never realized
what name you answered to.
It was you who kept me balanced,
while I worked,
while I played,
while I danced.
What happened, Cerebellum?
You and my muscles,
working together.
You moved my muscles
and moved me
forward
faster
surer.
With your help, we always won.
Is it true?
Are you always on my mind?
Or is it under?
Dorsally sitting below my lobe,
occipital in nature,
you sit with my cerebrum,
on auto-pilot –
mostly –
and occasionally
cleaning up my mess
with purpose.
With so many muscles,
how do you keep track?
“What’s that noise?”
as I turn to look.
“Wait for me!”
as I sprint ahead.
Working with my
senses –
ears to hear,
eyes to see,
sensory receptors feel –
it is you who is first to respond.
I can sense your guilt.
I know,
you didn’t mean it.
I know,
you can only do so much.
It’s just hard to not be me,
the old me,
the me who didn’t get hurt
working,
playing,
dancing.
The me who didn’t
bruise hips,
sprain ankles,
wrench knees… while walking.
Without you? Not fun.
I’m not naïve.
Alcohol –
not a fix.
I lean on you,
need you,
rely on your guidance.
Jose Cuervo leaves me
Leaning, needing, relying.
Too much Cuervo
I fall and curse your failure.
But I always get up.
That’s you too
isn't it?
When I think you’ve gone,
abandoned me,
left me to stumble through life,
you pick me up again.
That’s just you,
Cerebellum.
Always lifting me
back on my feet
again.
Working,
playing,
dancing.
So much fun to be had.
Can we try again?
It can’t be too late.
You,
me…
tennis anyone?
