Some words are too heavy to write.
Their weight bears too much pain
To stay alive on the page,
nor offer any light.
Thus, the poet keeps them
out of sight.
To ink such words upon a page
might fill a fragile world
with hopeless and destructive rage.
Such is the darkened fate
of the chronically ill forced to hide,
all energy drained and waiting
for life to open wide,
and poetry find its way again
in a new and open light.
Filed under POETRY
The chronically ill can teach us a lot.
their only role, their only goal
is to become well.
To be well they must be good.
Goodness stems from the earth’s swell
offering direction and protection
from heat and cold, dampness and mold
by rules of nature ancient and bold.
Rules which seamlessly flow
from stars above and earth below.
Walking barefoot and bareheaded
begins one’s instruction, and forms connection
to the healing power of universal affection
for all life willing to know, and grow
into a being of energy full of light and aglow
within every cell and coursing stream
of willpower and desire to hold each hour
in sacred trust and wondrous love.
To the chronically ill it is clear one must
transcend pain and overcome fear with trust;
to value only what is now, and what is here.
To be not chronically ill; but, chronically well.
annarino writes 