Slows down to a crawl plus poem

Life slows down to a crawl- almost a week of a particularly virulent cold.  My activities have been reduced to lounging on the sofa watching Downton Abbey, one of those dress up dramas that can't compare with "Upstairs, Downstairs".  The predictability of the plot is reassuring and perfect for lying around. The one day I ventured out to the store I was behind an elderly man and realized I was buying the same things he was (orange juice and milk). This slow pace could be a foreshadowing. 
In naturopathy a heavy cold is considered cleansing.  Our teacher said illnesses in children often resulted in growth spurts.  I had a growth spurt of a different kind, new thoughts came to me, things I had discounted or put aside and now can re-visit.  Does anyone remember the TV series Ally McBeal?  I always found the baby that appeared in scenes ridiculous but I have found myself having similar dreams.  Often there are neglected kittensthat I've forgotten to feed.  Last night it was a baby I found on a countertop.  I asked it if it was hungry- I was pleased to tell everyone it answered yes in English.  I fed it a bottle and spared it a few moments of play.  The symbolism is the baby represents some part of yourself you have not been nurturing.  At least in this dream, I gave it something to eat.
    So today, I can emerge slowly (even reluctantly) from this space I've inhabited for so many days.

Here's a poem I wrote ages ago but have reworked for some drama.

THE CENTURY TURNS

            Amphibious we swim

            some of the time,

            emerge sticky, dun colored

            from the murk of our ancestry.

           

            You are too much mine.

            Erased by foreign lands,

            too much acquiescence,

            for us there is no tomorrow,

no promise of children.

Your suit hangs,

shoes polished to the sonance

of Paris streets.

Your country, Congo,

is left behind.

At night,

the distant drip

of blood

seeps behind our walls.