Health Organization for Pudendal Education

Too Tired

By: AthenasMommy 12/9/10

I'm too tired
To pick up my pen
Write a new song
A new something again

Too much going on
In these 110 pounds
Don't have enough left
Not for even another round

Wait!
Gotta go on....
There's something burning inside
A small little flame...
And, no, not the pain
The flame of hope
Of faith, of cheer
Oh, just remembered
It's "the most wonderful time of the year."

Turn over.
Ouch, ouch.
A stab, and a stick
A shocking, a crackling
A burnt candle wick
Is the end of my nerve
At the end of it's tunnel.
There's light?
Oh, yeah...
It's a tunnel; must be light.

No more fight
The bars have been cut down
Regeneration is here!!!

Oh... but the FEAR!

In swaddling, downy sheets
Lies my stripped flesh
Bathed in the blood
The injection, the flood

Pulling. Stretching.
Ouch that really hurts!
Want to know more?

Doesn't end...

Oh, wait. Yes it will. It will! It must!!

I will restore to you the years the locusts have eaten...

Yeah. When my PT was a-beatin'
Beating down on that "spasm."

Ha. Ha, ha ha. You were wrong.
I was right.
I knew. I KNEW.

God showed me. I knew.
Show me again...

Show me

The end.

A's Mommy,
I've read that compelling art often comes from pain. Your poem really spoke to me. Very inspiring. Made me cry and feel better all at the same time.

Beautiful work, AM!
I absolutely love this and am so impressed that you're using your pain for something constructive.
Thanks for sharing this heartfelt and inspiring poem.
Love,
Karyn

Great poem.

A's Mommy,
I wrote a big long response to your beautiful, touching poem and when I went to submit it, the forum asked me to sign in again (I guess I took too long writing it!). Anyway, when I went back to the page my response was gone!

I wanted you to know how deeply it touched me. I felt the sadness and the fear, yet it always returned to the hope and positive feelings.

I'm glad you are telling it like it is so others can know what we deal with every day, the pain, the fear, the losses. And the fact that we never know if we will be one of the ones who get better or not is always scary. It is the fear of the unknown. I will be four months out from surgery after Christmas, at the end of December. We are wondering whether I will be able to dance under the mistletoe or if I will spend much of the day in bed or on the couch as I do now. My husband says that's going to be his Christmas gift - getting me back, or getting "us" back. We have lost so much of our lives and dreams to this.

With love,
Sharon

A fantastic poem.

I love your poem, AM, I have read it over and over and see more in it each time. Wish I could be so creative. There are so many beautiful writers in this group.