In the strange memory of those sentences that struck to the sensitive chords of my heart...
"You make your illness your weak point."
"You have become like an old woman. Always being sick."
"Oh, she wants to be the center of attraction of everyone."
The reality is,
Pain cannot be seen or heard,
Pain cannot be described as shooting, stabbing or burning,
Neither it's a sensation that can be localized to any part of the body.
Pain dominates your body, it blots your senses.
It's an all encompassing malignancy,
A crucifying pain that slowly permeates every fiber of one's being.
It is not being gored by a bull,
It is being eaten alive by an army of starving termites,
They'll eat you bit by bit everyday,
and destroy you silently.
A higher temperature of body indicates fever,
Blood oozing out from the body indicates wound,
A crack in the bone indicates fracture,
But internal and chronic pain ridicules you to misery.
It's on me, you and us,
To kneel down to the overwhelming gravity of pain,
Or to choose to rise against the pain.
I've been a stubborn pugnacious girl,
I've nurtured and embraced my Moments of Pain,
I've fought bitterly with my Moments of Pain,
I've cried patiently over my Moments of Pain,
While it walks, travels and twists my nerves,
I've smiled with a curve on my lips in my Moments of Pain.
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A/N - Wrote for this collection after months. I hope you all like it.
Dedicated to a very sweet, kind and generous lady. An amazing poet too lkrice . I share a deep bond with her.