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About the Poem

I wrote this poem at a time in my life where I was feeling very alone. I was terminally ill and I had lost my hope in ever feeling whole again. But I realized the truly positive effects of the love and prayer.

Another Gift

Another gift.
A parade of stuffed animals with smug faces stands at attention in my room.
The sweet yet sickening aroma of "get well" bouquets permeates the air.
As if these thoughtful gifts will heal me.
I'm in their prayers
and positive thoughts
but I'm still lying in this hospital bed.

My negativity is my savior.
Protecting me from the disappointment
that seems to hold hands
with lab results and second opinions.

Positive thinking is a cyclone
that tosses me up
into a cloud of false hope.
My burden is too heavy,
the hope is too thin.
So I fall slowly,
back into my hospital bed,
where I am met by a darker face of false hope.
It drips through my I. V. line.

Another gift.
This one from someone I have yet to meet
and probably never will.
I'm in her prayers.
It will probably be another animal
or a box of candy.
More chocolate coated positivity
being forced down my throat.

A journal.
A journal?
What could I possibly have to write,
that would be worth saving?
My days have no surprise beginnings,
or happy endings that I would want to keep
and read again later.

If anything, I'd have to write fictional days for myself.
I could write of the day I wish to have
or the things I wish to do.
I could go back and say the things I never said
or take back the words that stung as they passed my lips.

A journal.
Something empty that I can fill with something other than false hope.
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