A Limp and Aspirins
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A Limp and Aspirins
I sit at the edge of the bed,
my hip hurts,
my back aches,
and my legs are on fire.
Not for the first time,
not for the last.
If one more person asks,
have I prayed about this,
or that...
I am going to scream,
softly and then cry.
Healing is a funny thing,
as I already feel healed.
My insides were burned and galled,
tore at and stripped clean,
and there were places,
I never thought I would "feel" again.
No feeling being better at times,
then the numb ache that comes,
with repeated abuse,
on the outside...
corresponding,
to the same spot,
on the inside.
Not a pretty thing,
at all.
Let me focus and consider.
My days are happy,
and angels walk in the garden,
near the door at the front.
I have seen them,
on more than one occasion.
They like to gather and watch,
the small fish in the tiny pond.
It is safe here.
Some may fear the hounds of hell,
but heavens four-legged soldiers...
are all mine.
They call in the night to each other,
and speak in secrets,
to the heroes,
that stand at the front.
Giant trees,
keep you on your knees,
"here" in the presence of the King.
A gift I bring, I wish to sing,
"I am healed",
way beyond reckoning.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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