by Christopher Statham
I was given something to wear that I did not want.
How could having this, help me to be proud?
It was ugly, and dark, just something to taunt.
So I wore this gift as a shroud.
Enveloped in a dimness that I could not shake.
Unable to notice a bright sunny day.
Hoping it was a dream from which I would awake.
Knowing, in fact, that it was here to stay.
Looking for a reason as to why it happened to me.
Wondering, “What’s next?”, to challenge life further.
Feeling so weary of the battles to be.
Knowing that I can’t quit, no matter the future.
I ask myself, “How do I embrace this thing?
Make it part of myself, without it overwhelming?”
An answer to which I wish someone would bring;
So I wait with hope from that eternal spring.