MY ARTHRITIS

           


    If once more
        I could move just as I please.
            Some days are not so bad.
                Some days I cry.
    You know, I feel it
        in my fingers, knees,
            My body's breaking down.
                I don't know why.
    Just thinking of the past
        makes me more ill.
            A future life of pain
                seems cruel and strange.
    And yet there comes a time
        when sitting still hurts more
            than getting up
                and facing change.
    The past is gone.
        I know it in my heart.
            And yet I long for you
                through out the day.
    I have to face a life
            with us apart.
                This is the hardest thing
                    I'll ever say.
    I must move on.
        I need to set you free.
            I have to ask you
                not to talk to me.

 

 

Reviews

[Syraj Syed]

Nuanced and complex...Glen, you took me through a range of sense memory...it always intrigues me when there is a wider purpose in the work...the inevitability of life...