In Recovery

I cried not for the physical pain …

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FullSizeRender(Augst 26, 2016)

I cried today; I cried today; I cried.
Not for the physical pain
Or the emotional scars
From weeks in bed,
Or the mental trauma of knowing
What the surgeons had done
(With my consent)
Or the daily prodding and measuring by routine hands,
Or the critical attempts to suck blood
From swollen limbs and terrified veins;
Not for the tubes, or stitches, or suppositories,
Or the heat and sweat,
Or leaking wounds,
Or the constant, proximate reminder of ill bodies,
Or the future cloud hanging nearby –
Its menace temporarily curtailed but not destroyed;
Nor for the breathless stumbles,
Or the endless lonely nights.

 

No, today I cried
From weariness.
I cried from weariness and waiting,
From wanting to feel whole again,
From needing to sit down without having to adjust my seat,
To walk without having to consciously move my legs,
To move quickly without gasping for breath,
To stand for a while without feeling faint.
I cried today; I cried today; I cried.

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