Poem of the Month - April 2010

Physical pain is troublesome in more ways than one. I recently sustained a relatively minor in-the-scheme-of-things injury and thought that I would be able to overcome any resultant issues with a positive attitude. I am sure my fighting spirit has helped me to slowly conquer my aches and pains while managing to struggle on with my ever-expanding workload that refuses to slow down just because I have. But I have certainly not risen above the pain to keep going no matter what, I have, in fact, been made to accept that sometimes life just has to go on around me. I have to watch work piling up, the house getting dirtier, running late for appointments, or not making them at all. It has been a blow to my self-opinion that is for sure.

So I thought it might be appropriate to write a poem about the last few weeks, and especially on April Fools' Day, when the joke is on me:

Pain and its Shadows

In that moment when I trip, tumble, bump into furniture
Time stands still.
Muscles tear, skin is pierced, a primal scream surges inside me
While I am still going down, crash, down, crash
Until I get to the inevitable end of this unwanted detour
That threatens the equilibrium
Of my seriously time-limited life.

My husband, daughter come from their Sunday night perches
To see what is wrong.
'Are you all right Darling'. No, I'm bloody not!
'That's going to be a nasty bruise Mum'. Oh, you think?
Resisting the urge to add further sarcasm to muddy any hint of sympathy
I smile as best I can and thank them for coming to my aid.

Weeks later, I have lived through
A chaotic sequence of pain-led recovery.
One step forward, two back.
Sleepless nights have become shorter periods of wakefulness,
Trying to find a comfortable spot in bed.
Wheat packs, pawpaw ointment, Panadol Rapid have become my friends,
When will I climb stairs again without the geriatric lurches
That have become my signature style?

Trips in the car, I feel every bump in the road
In every movement I discovered new muscles that,
Rather than being joyful at the call to order, choose to join in on the pain circuit;
'You want to use us, NOW! There'll be a price!'

More sleepless nights, sheer agony.
I can't go on like this - pain, when will you go away,
When will I feel normal again?
When will I be able to take for granted getting up from the couch,
Picking up a bit of paper that has fallen on the floor,
Running to catch the tram?

Pain has no colour, it is shades of grey.
Its thud has no music, its is simply here to remind me
That I am human, flawed, imperfect.
But its message is also
That life will be better, giving me hope
That I will once again take life for granted,
And all will be well with the world.

Julie, April 1, 2010