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blue flowerFinding Peace in the Midst of Suffering:

Expressing Poetry Through Pain

 

Umbrella

My throbbing, pulsating, radiating pain cuts me through to the marrow with its icicle knife.
The cold spreads like the crackling poison that ages me.
My superficial skin is purple and blue with electric burning shock.
The cures that I suck down with eyes shining bright
turn my fingers crossed into questioning, praying hands. Rejecting 
the falsities that the miracle workers write down on their tiny sheets of paper. Keeping secret memories of my misery tucked away in forgotten files as I convince myself to hang up the phone every time.
My thorn is embodying my life and it is winning as I fail this godless test.
I resent watching the flowers I loved once blossom, and the people I love are praying FOR ME!
I am limping through the valley casting a shadow that is lifeless in spirit and I don't see Your's.
Does He know that one thousand angels would catch me too? Wouldn't they? They have before, but not this time. This time I get an F. 
I'm waiting now.
The spring could be beautiful without all of this rain.
Can't we hold the umbrella together?

                                                    -Mary Mattio, Age 23, RSD/CRPS


LIVING IN PAIN, BENT 
 
  Tired bones, hurts to move. Bugs crawling under skin. 
  Bones crunching into dust. Burning lava, spreads like fire. 
  Deep knots in arms and shoulders. I cant think it away... 
  it is always there. I want out of my body, but im too stubborn 
  to go. Old and tired, but im still so young. It never sleeps, 
  and neither can I. Spreads slowly...no cure here. 
  Mind over matter is what they say, will it matter while I waste 
  away? Not fair for my family, day to day. I try to hide it, 
  dont think it works, it has just begun and will get worse. 
  Only Jesus can get me out of this. It is all in the blink of an 
  eye...time will go by. Im so scared of being a burden, I cant 
  think straight, all this hurtin. Lord, dont let it be here to stay... 
  pray it away. Is this hell-always burning? Im so tired but it 
  is just starting. Not as bad as they say...think it away. This 
  body is only a vessel if i keep my soul strong. It wont get 
  me...im not ready yet. Thinking of others helps. I will be 
  remembered for something else. I may be bent, but I can 
  still stand. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. 
  - - - Patience Martino, CRPS, 1997 


brianmagnet.jpgChronic Pain
Let me introduce myself to you,
I am pain.
Not just pain, but Chronic Pain.
Sometimes I am a hot searing pain,
other times I am a sharp shooting pain,
cutting through you like a knife.
And yet at other times I am like a root canal or toothache, that never goes away.
If left uncontrolled, I will rob you of your humor,
I will rob you of your friends and rob you of your dignity.
I will rob you of your job and make your family miserable.
I will take away from you everything that is dear to you
including your very soul.
You can not see me,
As I am invisible to the human eye.
Therefore one should not judge someone
who knows me on a constant daily basis,
for I do not ever go away.
I do not have any friends,
for if left alone,
I destroy them.
If you think you are safe from me,
Please think more than once.
For I can become a part of you,
as quickly as a snow flake falling from the sky;
as easily as a leaf falling from a tree
or raindrops falling from the sky.
No one wants me as a friend;
Because I Am The Enemy!
Many doctors fear me
for they don't or won't treat me!
I am treatable,
but on many times I am not seen
I hide and I lurk in somebody’s body,
and many deny I am a part of them;
in fear of being called insane.
Why are doctors afraid of me,
Are they afraid of me because of who I am, and what I can do?
or who my insurance company is?
or is it the Federal Government
in which they fear?
-By Paula Baier  
www.aboutrsd.com/chronic-pain-poem.htm  


Water_lilly.gif MigraineWater_lilly.gif

I awake to pain.
My head is heavy, encased in cement;
I cannot move.
My eyes open:
Molten agony flows through spread-eagled limbs
To innocent feet.
Still life on a bed;
Frozen in place.
Except for my mind,
My tripping, tipping mind that says ENOUGH!
Refuse to be involved,
For to dwell on pain is to feel it twice over,
With madness not far behind.
I must steal pain’s energy and think it gone:
From my pores I will birth flowers,
Tiny seeds of pain will bud and bloom
With the grace of time-lapse photography.
Blossoms will fall from my skin
Wherever I hurt, soothing me and comforting me
With soft color and gentle scent.
My head is pillowed in flowers
Fallen away in sweet abundance.
Each throb produces more.
My feet are massaged by velvet petals.
I am covered with flowers,
Mounded with flowers.
I am adrift in a sea of flowers.
                                    -by Linda Martinson

Linda Martinson
Author, Poetry of Pain - inspiration & hope for chronic pain sufferers

Pain Educator, Speaker
lindamartinson@aol.com

www.simplybookspublishing.com


Untitled -by Mary Mattio 2006

fbflygirl.gif

Blackberries bleeding in my palm as I press my body against the ground. My belly bends inward to avoid the fence’s splintered grasp. 
When the earth becomes still and the hum of the ground replaces the bird’s song, I become hollow. I echo the night. I run to escape. The moon cornering me. Trapping me with his gang of stars always chasing and watching.
         I bite down on the minutes. I squeeze and suck them with my tongue in obedience. I swallow every slow drop before the next. So swift. So violent.
The gray of evening licks at the small hairs on my neck. Always scolding. Always sneaking behind me.
Once the blackness catches me, as it always does, it pushes me down to honor it’s resurrection. I am pushed deeper into the murk. Strangled by the cold that forces into my nose and chokes me.
As I drown, my flesh withers. Water folds into me. I abandon the struggle and sacrifice myself.
     Breath steals away from me and dances toward the surface. I melt into Jesus’ palm. I am a nail, I am a flower. I am a broken child orphaned by hope.
Never meant for this….not built to withstand….not meant for this.

       Once the morning stretches all the way down here at the bottom, will I be released? It will be too late by then. I will be found in the belly of a whale or my toes stuck between the teeth of a lion.
      A man will say, “poor child.” A woman will cry and think of her own baby.
And all the while, I will be limp and lifeless. Never a tear, never a wince from me. I will become sinless and saint-like. A ghost story, or a heroic legend.
      My hand stained purple, I am revived. The fiend retreats to his dungeon swamp. I exhale frost. Life fills my nostrils. I am pardoned. I am released.
I have broken into every piece of sadness and shattered into mercy. I am a quilt. I am a mirror. I am lace.


forest.jpg                              At the Foot

Worn, broken, torn.
Thrown about, shattering on touch down.
Don’t touch.

In my world, I am clad in frozen knives and electricity.
Lightning strikes!
The willow bends in submission.

Time Lapses, the Forrest waits.

Gracefully, she lifts her prostrate, silken hair off of the ground.
Searing laces hold tight to the atrophy:
The roots are grounded and protected by the tangle.

The clouds exhale warmth and softness.
The willow reaches toward the yellow morning.
 

                                               -Mary Mattio 2005/RSD


I Just Can't Fear
 
This pain is hard to handle,
It's present most night and day,
Yet I seek to gain from it's force
An understanding of my Master's way.
 
I did not ask for, or expect it,
Same with the grace He so freely bestowed.
How can I accept the one gift,
And from the other react so cold?
 
All that He gives me is priceless,
Approved, sealed and worthwhile.
He alone knows all my tomorrows.
He alone has each detail on file.
 
He's making and breaking and molding,
Shaping, refining as gold,
Yes, I trust every moment, every second,
Every joy, every pain,
Gladly released to my Master's strong Hold.
 
                   .......for Thou art with me. 
 
                                            -by Angela Quinn, 43/MP-CRPS-DDD

  postop.jpg

Looking Glass

So weak.

Wilting, breaking, withering in the light. Caught in a numbing spiral of snow and stars, can't move my arms. The walls are getting closer to me.

The sunlight and fresh scents of Spring and blossoms mock me. Just be strong.

Where is it? Where is the strength that keeps my body solid and my spirit smiling?Where is the joy that I was promised? When will it all be over and finished?

Vision blurs, all is quiet. The silence defeats me. My pain shoots my soul. The monster murders my pretend soliderity daily.

As I peer into the looking glass at the strong woman glistening and sparkling, I wonder where the little girl went. Where is the girl who cannot walk?

She is so fragile and weak, someone must accompany her. She is so sad, she might fall too far away.

But the woman in the reflection world says that she dances ballet on her toes. She says that people look to her for strength. She says she can handle anything.

 She and the child disagree and battle daily. Strangely, the sick child often wins.

                                                -Mary M./RSD 

fairyflower.gif

Obstacle Course

Rattle. The snake’s venom punctures my skin.

    The poison runs into my body like a cold metal.

With my hands tied I must wait for the demon’s bite to roll over me and bend me inward.

My thoughts could kill me if the poison does not.

My nostrils pour rainbows.

       My eyes glow moon beams.

My soft breath is a healing cloud that submerges my contaminated bones in softness.

          The fiery coals that burn my nerves are met by a shimmering, yellow blanket of dust.

I cool like candle wax.

I stretch my body and adopt the sun’s rays as a child sleeping in my cradled arms.

     As I let my first gasp turn into butter, I am champion over the snake.

            My lungs are my postage stamps to a world where pain is forbidden.

                  Take me there.

Make me into a fairy that I might fly away.

     I am only sparkle and beautiful color.

          I molt my skin and hide it inside of a whispering, purple orchid

                As I drift effortlessly.

                                    -Mary Mattio/Age 23, RSD                                        


 HEAVENS GROCERY STORE

As I was walking down life‘s
highway many years ago,
I came upon a sign that read
Heaven‘s Grocery Store.

When I got a little closer
the doors swung open wide
And before I really knew it
I was standing there inside.

I saw a host of angels.
They were standing everywhere
One handed me a
basket and said
"My child shop with care."

Everything a human needed
was in that grocery store
And what you could not carry
you could come back for more.

First I got some Patience.
and Love was in that row.
Further down was Understanding,
needed everywhere you go.

I got a box of Wisdom
and Faith a bag or two.
And Charity of course
I knew I needed, too.


My basket got quite full, you know
But I knew I needed Grace
And then some Strength and Courage
to help me run this race.

 

 

And then I chose Salvation for
Salvation was for
free
I tried to get enough of that
to do for you and me.

Then I started to the counter
to pay my grocery bill,
For I thought I had everything
to do the Master‘s will.

As I went up the aisle I saw
a Prayer and put that in,
For I knew that when I stepped outside
I‘d run into ugly sin.

Peace and Joy were plentiful,
the last things on the shelf.
Song and Praise were hanging near
so I just helped myself.

Then I said to the angel
"Now how much do I owe?"
He smiled and said "Just take them
everywhere you go."

Again I asked "Really now,
How much do I owe?"
"My child " he said, "God paid your bill
a long long time ago."

by :) Jim O.   www.RSDHope.org

 

 

 

All About Me

I thought it was all about me
The accident, the injury, the pain
She was glad I was alive, I had survived
And I thought it was all about me
 
The pain, the suffering, lucky to be alive
She saw me suffer and suffered too
Until my life was no longer worth living
I was ready to leave, letting go to die
She was afraid, how could he leave
We just got started, came all this way
But it was my pain, my life, my death
More than anyone could endure
It was all about me
 
Near normal one minute, miserable the next
Drugs, therapy, massage, only to get worse
Hard to be around a Jekyll and Hyde
She waited patiently, I didn’t know why
Cried in the shower so I wouldn’t hear
This helped her but I was the one in pain
It was all about me
 
She gave up so much to be with me
Her job, her home, her family and friends
She’s smart, hard working, talented, pretty, compassionate
Why had she given up so much, so much to me
That’s what I wanted, I pulled it from everywhere
I pulled it in from her, I pulled it from everyone
They didn’t understand, they couldn’t understand
How could they, I tried but I didn’t
You see it was all about me
 
I took and took from her and them, I put everyone through so much
A selfish time, a difficult time, a time to suffer with anguish
Yet now I see so many others as bad or worse off than me
Invisible over there with so many right here
Living today, yesterday, and tomorrow
It was not all about me, it was about life, for me to live,
for me to know, for me to give, for me to care for others
And not so much about me
 

(copyright Heywer 2001)  www.survivingpain.com


Diseased Mind
You double edged fog
Where I was Lost.

You breathless intensity
To which I am bound.

You mocking insignificance
Of which I am enraptured.

Pray madening laberynth
What vice might appease your appetite?

What naked shame must I sacrifice
So your bewildering magic might cease?

Dominating captur' of soul
Whisper to me heaven's promise.

I bow before you trembling
I appeal to you master of my immortality.

-Mary Mattio, 23/RSD 

 

If you would like to submit a poem, mail to: bodyofhope@aol.com  (new email)