looking at the pain five years later

okay, so i'm cheating. i'm lifting from my writing from five years ago, when i was in so much pain and i felt hopeless and small. being in pain affects us all, being trapped is an undeniable hell. this is my second (millionth) chance in life.

i'd love to hear your thoughts. 

these days of being trapped, inside my trap
i see the crisp blue sky and i feel the warmth
swirled on the tails of the cool autumnal breeze
when i open and shut the windows.
the dog's bark carries on longer than the summer's song.
i want to be out and busy.
i want to be not in here, debating my pain scale.
and the torment of sitting still, brings no pain at all.
and the surges of energy brings discomfort in my own skin.
i feel the faker because doing nothing at all, and i'm fine,
do anything, and i'm fighting the burn radiating from within
my own blanking spine. it betrays me. and i hate it.
and i cringe to see my writing about it.
i'm sick of thinking about it, feeling it, hearing about it.
sick of people asking about it, sick of treating it.
sick of it all. so i try to ignore it and do absolutely nothing.
nothing at all.

pondering at the seems

as i crossed the old bedroom, i remembered how not long ago, my son would open the screen and pick a rose of sharon bloom for me and present it as a gift. i felt saddened that i had not spent more time remembering the best about him lately. there never seems to be enough time.

as i picked up the small framed picture from the floor, i remembered how a lifetime ago, my daughter was a tiny beginning whose every word was an amazing discovery about her. i felt horrible that a time warp occurred whilst i was pining for something different. there never seems to be contentment.

as i sat on the reclaimed wood benches my husband had made, i remembered how i met him all those years ago, a quiet gentleman who had such fury in his heart. i felt clouded by our fog of bills and obligations and lists and failures and tarnish. there never seems to be enough forgiveness.

as i sit on the chair in the corner of our bedroom, i pray for peace, for memories, for time, for contentment, and for forgiveness. i find the last line is forever the hardest to write.