Let the ether take it all: 30 Minute Poetry

Yesterday was a rough day. Even drugged up I was curled up ball of pain and nausea on the sheets. Another social event fell through and Mr Grumpy attended alone. I tried. I planned. I got up early and took even more pills. And still it wasn't enough. I can push and I can plan and I can still be defeated. A can do attitude just doesn't cut it on days like that. So I lay home alone in our bedroom exhausted and in pain unable to function and hating that I had let him down again [looking back at this it feels strange as I don't feel this way anymore, but it was such a strong internal dialogue when I was worn down by unrelenting severe pain. Mr Grumpy has always been supportive and never made me feel like that, it was just me beating up on me.] Some days I can take it and accept that this is simply how it is at the moment. And some days I spend my day in tears of  pain, frustration and self-recrimination until the drugs finally kick in and let me sleep. And days like that I put pen to paper. To let it all out. To cauterise the wound. And keep going. 

Write out your pain. 

Let the ink pull the poison from your veins.

Let it draw the hurt

And claim the burden.

Scratch the page

Tear the fibres

Break the nib.

Get it out

Get it out

Get it out.

Watch the ink flow

Watch the pain swirl

Black liquid

Absorbing all.

Watch it conquer the page.

Printed lines and the hurried script alike.

Watch the white page disappear.

Watch as it soaks up the bile and anger.

The fear and pain.

The pain of a malfunctioning body

Remorseless and enduring.

The pain of a bruised soul

Tired of the fight without end

With the self.

A body intent on tearing itself apart.

Pain in letters.

In spilled ink.

Every letter, every line.

A song of wounds, raw and festering.

Sharp edges and elegant swirls.

Jagged, angry script pouring across the page.

Pouring from your veins.

Let the dam walls break

Let the torrent free.

Trace the letters

Again and again.

Harder and harder.

Make them stick.
Make them shout
Make them scream.
Make them the vessel.
For all that you bear. 

Let the spell be fulfilled

Let the ink be your blood.

Let it suck the pain from your soul

Let it take the sickness from your body.

Present your burden

And let it be taken.

Let the tears fall

Let them spill on cursive and print.

Let them blur the words

And wash away the pain.

Watch them soak the page

Watch them break down the fibres and the ink. 

Let it wash you clean

Let the ink work its magic

Let the ether take it all.

And when the ink is spent and the pen run dry

Let it fall from your hand

Onto the rubble of paper and ink before you.

Rest your weary head

And let your soul uncurl

Let the tension leave your body.

And sleep take you to dreams of sunlit rooms and the warm glow of peace.

Let the burden be lifted

If only for the now.

And line up your sheaves 

And line up your pens

For when the pain comes calling once more.

You will remember the spell.

Michelle

For those who prefer to listen to poetry than read, here's my audio of the same piece.