A Poem

Post #88 – 6 a.m. Another Painful Sleepless Night and a Raw, Unedited Poem


Please correct writing errors in your head. Exhaustion wrote this entry. I just went along for the ride.

As I watch my computer clock race towards 6 a.m., I have an unsettling awareness of my heartbeat. I feel it tapping against my skin. My whole body hurts; my bed chokes my neck and cramps my shoulders in the vice grip. The skin-protecting air mattress that I lay on nearly twenty-four-seven causes me distress. My body sinks into the twenty constantly moving air cells and my back sinks in lower than my head, causing the neck and shoulder issues. It is unpleasant. You would not believe how hard air cells can get. Plus, it feels as if I am floating on a deflating raft on rocky ocean waves. Not kidding. Others have lain on it and said the same thing.

Red ants crawl on my legs as an army mosquitos party my feet (night and day). Crickets sing their never-ending four-part chorus of “It Tinnitus Time” in my brain, Noisy critters. Always wonder how they got inside my head.


ants dancing

Neuropathy causes the insects sensations and tinnitus screeches in my ears. stifling sleep. Although I am technically paralyzed, I still have feeling in my legs, albeit skewed.


cricket singing gruitar


So I write. My eyes burn, but writing is my pain pill, distracting me from this mind bending pain. And my hands and arms hurt. I have to type upwards on my laptop because my doctor wants me to lay flat to relieve pressure from that awful chronic wound that will not stop haunting me. It has opened and closed at least forty timres since 2004.


I dislike not having control of my body. My fridge taunts me, “Dark chocolate,” A decadent way-after-midnight treat. But, alas, my fridge may as well be in Alaska.

So I though I’d pen a poem, unedited and raw, simply because I am way too tired to dress it up. My poem shall stay in its pajamas along with me. After posting this, I’m gonna knock myself out, somehow.



Though you’ve suffered for so long

And the battles rage on and on;

He finds a way for you to hear

His song,

Grants you peace when all is wrong;

When your tears a barrel cannot hold,

You’ll still come shining forth, pure as gold.

Before the grueling trial has met its end, 

a bounty of blessings He will send

and you will be a thousand-fold blessed

Because of His unfailing faithfulness.

keep writing

3 replies »

  1. Your poem, “though you’ve suffered for so long”, speaks of your insights of the bigger picture, so much more commendable, since you are confined to a bed. Plus the stuff you have gone through. Out of empathy, if I was God, I would heal you, though out of infinite wisdom and love for you, with His “bigger picture” than ours, He hasn’t. You definitely are one of his best warriors.

    It’s nothing to begin climbing Mt. Whitney in CA, beginning at 10000 feet, but its a far greater feat to begin climbing hundreds of miles away in Death Valley, minus a couple of hundred feet. But in you case, you began in a dark mine shaft hundreds of feet underground. So your closeness to the top of the peak speaks of incredible courage against insurmountable odds. The prism reflecting from you character is just beautiful.

    Will get around to reading parts of your story, but for now, the little I know, is a glimpse of true art, painted by God Himself.


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