In a Coat of Pain

I’ve knocked on every door of medicine men— doors painted with hope. Swallowed pills of every size and colour. Been told, “This one never fails.” Another promise— fulfilled only in disappointment. The body that once felt mine now feels like a stranger’s— still wearing my name tag. I sleep early, trying to rinse myself from pain, but wake up still dressed in it. The coat I wear? Pain-stitched— by a tailor who graduated from the school of suffering. The smiles you see are plastic. Built to trick the pain. To reassure the guardian sitting quietly in the corner pretending not to notice the storm I’m in. My calendar? Full of appointments... and disappointments. The Cost They Don’t Count Medical bills grow like small hills in the valley— but never heal. Budgets collapse while symptoms stack. And Then… the Silence Friends fade. Even those that once loved loud— go quiet. Even the ones at my bedside steal a gaze, but say nothing. To the Caregiver— I see you. You give without asking back. Your strength— irreplaceable. Your love— unmatched. Your smile— illuminating. And yet, I know… your silence carries its own invisible scars. And Still… I Carry Hope Hope— that married faith and gave birth to victory. So if you see me— don’t just see the illness. See the war I fight just to exist. By Davie Kaliu