“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Friday, May 24, 2013

It Happens Sometimes


It happens sometimes.
The days come when I feel robbed.
The unfairness galls.

Gloom will grip tightly,
plunging me into envy
of the healthy ones.

My will soon devolves
into melancholic grief
with its lockjaw vise.

7 comments:

Muffie said...

Judy, sounds familiar. I love the expressions "devolves into melancholic grief," and "lockjaw vice." Really sums it up!
Peace,
Muff

Robert Parker said...

I've felt robbed too frequently than is good for me... but only when humans are involved. It was their choices that cost me something.

M.S. doesn't exist. It can't rob me. There is no "it" that has volition or that performs actions.

So, instead of anger directed against an enemy that has taken things from me, I have to deal with the grief of loss. And that's... better? I suppose so... at least someone didn't choose to cause the changes that have befallen me. Which is, I guess, definitely "better," but still... either way, it ain't no fun.

Kim @ Stuff could... said...

I do get envious of healthy ones...good poem

The Wheelchair Kamikaze said...

Ah, yes, that green with envy feeling. Was out in Central Park yesterday and was nearly overwhelmed by it. Health, youth, how absolutely covetous I have become. Tough to stay in the moment when at that particular moment you are watching young couples and blissful love strolling effortlessly through the Park, the entire universe a vehicle for their exhilaration. At least I did get to experience some of that, way back when…

Mary Gerdt said...

So perfectly descriptive of the dark side we must experience in the year 2013. This is the side that is hard to explain. Have a Great weekend,Mary

Karen said...

I try to stay upbeat and positive, but you know what, it's just not happening so much any more.

Judy at Peace Be With You said...

This poem is the condensed version of a longer poem I wrote during the worst meltdown I have had in almost my entire history with MS. Many things triggered it, from the trivial to the important, but they all seemed to arrive at once. I, who normally have a self-imposed limit of fifteen minutes to allow myself to vent, succumbed to a multi-hour cry. The full version of the poem was:

Mourning Came at Last
yesterday I cried
and I cried and I cried
the full enormity
of what I have faced and still awaits
finally acknowledged by me
heart wrenched on so many fronts
life robbed on so many levels
the loneliness
and I cried and I cried
I mourned at last for decades of losses
borne with stoic courage
I mourned finally after acknowledging
more losses lie ahead
on so many fronts
on so many levels
and I cried and I cried
and now the crying has gone underground
to weep in droplets no one hears
except my heart senses each one’s fall
the heart knows
the heart weeps
and I cry

I have since managed to regain my equanimity, but it is times like these when I know I’m dealing with some really bad @#%&!!

Muff, I have thankfully managed to pry open the lockjaw again.

Robert, interestingly, I have never felt that about others, but sorry I disagree about MS not existing. It has name, form, function, and seemingly independent will. I do agree though that one can strive to avoid falling into victim mode.

Kim, yes, I am mostly good about it, but every now and then it gets to me that others enjoy good health and I don’t.

Marc, I am so grateful that I had so many opportunities in my earlier life to experience the great joys life can offer. It would be far worse, indeed, if I never had the opportunity to experience them in the first place.

Mary, yes, I went to the dark side momentarily.

Karen, it does seem to get harder, the worse off I am.