Pain

A poem by Lorne Laliberte

Foreword:

Ah, another poem from my journal. This one was written after a long night of writhing in agony. At the time it was written I (and countless doctors) didn't know what caused my back and leg pain, but now I have a cool name for it. Ankylosing Spondylitis is no picnic, but there are worse things to have, and it's hard to feel sorry for yourself with heroes like Christopher Reeve in this world.

Am I awake?
Toss and twist and turn
In bed - am I asleep?
This pain is nightmare.
Too strong, it can't be real.
Too strong, can't be denied.
If I'm awake, it's much too soon.
I have to sleep, I have to,
Tomorrow turned today and my night is turning morning.
Maybe I'm asleep.
Maybe this nightmare isn't real,
But the pain is, surely,
Surer than my breath
So close to death with all this pain.
No, now I am awake,
It's morning, got to move,
Was I ever asleep?
The pain is still real.

Afterword:

I've never really cared much for this poem. It sounds too futile, too negative for a determined optimist like me.

But I'm glad I chose to share it. One man wrote to thank me for helping him understand the pain his daughter was going through. What a letter to receive...all at once, you're happy to know you've helped someone grow, but sad to learn of the pain someone else is going through.

My heart goes out to anyone who has lived through a night made eternal by paralyzing pain.

Last modified: November 15, 2003
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