Incessantly hovering,
Like moths to a light.
I lay here all weary,
But no comfort in sight.

Poked and prodded,
Drugged but not rest.
In sterile surroundings,
I’m forced to catch my breath.

Family all gathered,
Some I’d rather not see.
Just give me my fortress,
Some time just for me.

Alone I prefer,
To do as I’d like.
Not questioned and bullied,
No arguments to fight.

Medical emergency,
Frequent trips months apart.
My health is now fading,
But my heart must restart.

Responsibilities and desires,
A life still left to live.
My children my safety,
But worries me still.

I am but one person,
My years not so vast.
So many things broken,
But still many left to start.

Give me the strength,
For another day’s journey.
Allow me my time,
To finish my story.

Many roads still to travel,
Seven days in a week.
Close my eyes for one moment,
A respite I seek.

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Road With Hairpin Turns Through Mountain Valley, courtesy of Horia Varlan from Flickr.com.