Monday, August 26, 2013

Hobbled



 
The dark.

Crawl my way up

Cold, stone walls

Dragging under me

a leg broken to bits.

Hurts?

Decide not to know.

No one there to tell me different.
 
 

Soaking wet

Shivering

The longest, coldest

Decades-long night.
 
 

No stars above

Clouds, rain, voices

Lightning to illuminate shapes, figures

Stopping to peer down at me

Watch me struggle

And then vanish
 
 

Some shout encouragement

While sending rocks towards me

The most sympathetic of them

Throw me rope

Attached to nothing.

And I thank them.
 
 

Motivated only to survive.

Every inch a new callous

Every movement shooting pain

Powerful, strong and acknowledged.
 
 

 
 
Closer to the top

Voices clearer.

“Why does he bother?”

As if I have not asked myself

The same thing

Endlessly.
 
 

As if their doubts and fears

I did not share.

And I climb to shed them.
 
 

Fingers touch earth

Drug out of the well

By the last of my strength.
 
 

Forced to be still.

Patience mandatory for healing

For true healing.
 
 

But once I rise

I find myself

Hobbled

Wounded in a way

Perhaps only I may ever see as truly restored.
 
 
 

Others choose to see the scars

I see the healing

I see the miraculous

I see the recovery

I seek those who see it too.
 
 

And whether I find them

Or not

I will run

And dance

Awkwardly but with such a passion

And joy.
 
 

I choose to feel

I choose to be bold


I refuse to be anyone

Who is not me

Who is truly hobbled.

Who is truly hobbled?

Indeed.
 
 
Thanks everyone who gave my poem a look.  Felt inspired tonight so thought I better go ahead and let it out.  You guys are so wonderful and I promise you if any of you are in a well of your own you can count on me to help get you out.  Hope your week has started off wonderfully.  (And if I happen to mention that the song that just came on my Pandora is "It is Well with My Soul" you have my full permission to smile about it like I am)

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18 comments

Tulis comments
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August 26, 2013 at 10:49 PM

I'm so glad to have met you at this point in your life. The beginning of the poem is so sad that its a real relief to be able to read the last few stanzas....they're really quite lovely.and after all everyone is hobbled in their own way... even those who would toss rocks or ropes without an anchor on the other end. Probably especially those people It's a valiant goal to continue to be true to yourself. NHL PBS.

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August 27, 2013 at 1:00 AM

Some good poetic skills in there--I need to see and read more of this from you. Desolate and solitude moments amidst calamities in life can at times make us feel there is no God, no star,moon or sun to shine down on you to at least make you see where you are heading for. Even amidst such, there is someone out there shouting some words of encouragement and throwing you a rope and you have to determine your own grip.

I enjoy deep stuff
Thanks for always dropping a post on ririzmusings.blogspot.com. It means alot

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August 27, 2013 at 2:08 AM

Wonderful poem Rick :) Thanks for the encouragement at the end.

http://everythingthatclicks.blogspot.com

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August 27, 2013 at 4:00 AM

I really like this poem!! TODAY OUTFIT WITH YELLOW DRESS ON MY BLOG! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT ME! Kisses and have a nice day! ♥♥ http://adribohocloset.blogs.elle.es

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August 27, 2013 at 10:04 AM

Nice poem. This seems to really come from the heart.
xoxoxo

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August 27, 2013 at 9:48 PM

Originally I felt it too long and was going to break it in 2 but it did seem so tough up front I thought a cliffhanger (or well-hanger as it were) was inappropriate.

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August 27, 2013 at 9:49 PM

You sure do enjoy deep stuff, dear. Your blog is full of thought-provoking essays all the time. Thanks so much for the kind words and for stopping by :)

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August 27, 2013 at 9:50 PM

You are very welcome! And thank you for being so sweet :)

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August 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM

So kind of you, dear. I never miss your blog but I appreciate the reminder and the nice words :)

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August 27, 2013 at 9:52 PM

Oh yes, Sweet Amy, anything you see from me comes directly from that spot. Mostly I filter it down alot but sometimes I let it out pure and as-is. Thanks so much, wonderful one :)

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August 28, 2013 at 3:35 AM

A wonderful poem! You have a lot of talent. I am amazed.

www.omelocotton.com

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August 28, 2013 at 9:35 PM

Thank you SO much sweetie. That means alot for you to say. Encouragement like that really helps me want to keep writing :)

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August 28, 2013 at 9:36 PM

Thank toy, senator. I appreciate your visit.

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August 29, 2013 at 12:15 AM

nice poem! you can write your own book. :)

lavinajampit.blogspot.com

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August 29, 2013 at 9:44 PM

Thank you so much, gorgeous. Maybe one day I can get enough poems together for one, but, by then, there will not be any more books :)

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Jo
August 31, 2013 at 11:10 PM

I see it as a dark and beautiful poem. However if I were to be asked to do a prac crit on it, I would fail. Just in case you don't know, prac crit is a form of unseen poetry or prose that Literature students are supposed to do. I love prac crit as I could never memorise lines from my books and plays.

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September 1, 2013 at 10:24 PM

Well, I am a dark and beautiful man. Actually, I am more pale and meh but my poetic soul is...well, its pretty light and sweet mostly. OK, so not dark and beautiful personally. But so love that you call my poem that. Very cool. Prac crits are very new to me.

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