poem

SplitI have a hole in my heart that has a hole in itselfBuck shot straight through the chestA broken heart heals; this is worse I keep pouring stuff in and pouring stuff inBut can ’t find any reliefEverything leaks outAll that ’s left is a piercing griefI was once torn between two pathsNow I ’m clean torn in halfPart of me staggers down a road I ’ll have to learn to acceptWhile the other half wanders like a ghostIn the indigo shadows of a dark woodGetting tangled in a life I won ’t knowI hope to be whole againBut grief blurs the visionHere I am, walking just fine on My own two feet, my own two legsPain doesn ’t come from a phantom limbThe pain is realAll along the pain was always mine A certain kind of dreadful spaceOpens up across timeThat only grief can fillAs a proxy for what was lostI had hoped that the ghost Would carry away the thing that hurtsBut the ghost must carry it ’s ownThe road is long and hotAnd the sultry sun beats down A blinding glare that stings the eyes Asphalt turning to dustOne day I ’ll look up from the groundAnd find my parched, sunburnt selfStalled by a stream in a brambled wood This is my dream  This my life It just needs time 7/17/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - July 17, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs