|Wilted fig leaves on a branch|
Gratitude, you say, would heal my dis-ease
and reward me with healthy nerves and knees.
You pick up your youth, your vigor and glow,
give me a nod and out the door you go
leaving fresh air in your wake and new guilt
that pain in my back, legs and hands won’t wilt.
Yet I can’t imagine what’s left to do
now that I greet pain like an old friend too.
I knew you almost a decade before
pain arrived, but pain stays with me far more.
In fact, pain’s moved in with notebooks and all
and I’ve made up its bed right down the hall.
And I am so grateful for its company—
I see much love beyond its litany.
So I’ve given up guilt’s cold and harsh breeze
for healthy chats with victims of disease.
Dis-eases like Ebola and cancerare blights awaiting humanity's answer.
Whether we heal into death or more life
our spirits are strong, we know health's our right.
For my prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Health.
Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast