On the Sparrow

In my mother's Bible, she scrawled on a scrap of paper the words to the hymn made legend by Ethel Waters, "His Eye is on the Sparrow." Why should I feel discouraged and why should the shadows come [...] His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me. Bumpy ride with a medication this week. The doc raised an antidepressant. I rose out of the first turn then dropped again. He raised the same med. I said to him on the phone, "I'm riding over the top." Was up for almost two days. With an extra med to help me sleep, finally slept last night. But woke up today with a med hangover - for want of a better word. I am out of rhythm and afraid from a well of what feels like centuries of experience I won't get back into rhythm again. Went to the circus the night I stopped sleeping, and one of the acts was a woman pretending to be a wind-up acrobat. She was flipped over and over by another, more burly acrobat. Front to back. Front to back. A finality to it, an inevitability. Familiar.