Does illness have a voice,
and if so; is it melancholy,
or dark and dank, divulging
deepest despair, or revealing
a vileness of nature?

Discord creeps along my veins,
disrupts muscles, systems failing
under the oppression –
“Stay strong,” friends counsel,
cannot hear the gathering storm,
feel the heaviness cloaking me.

I am not myself, but then;
who am I?  Is disease a mutation
of the original sin – punishment
for fatal sins, or  redemption
wrapped as trial – the whispers
gain clarity – I am faltering…

(Written for Reena’s Exploration challenge:  featured image as prompt.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

25 thoughts on “Discord”

  1. Echoing the sentiment of “In mind and out” above. This is so relatable, especially that annoying phrase “Stay strong”. Well intended but hollow and pointless words. Your poetry burns, V.J.

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  2. Wonderful and important words. Someone or perhaps many who read this will be relieved that someone else understands the error of saying “stay strong”. That is a gift to them! Also, I hope you congratulate and celebrate the fact that you are managing to write and posts when you are battling this. Amazing!

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  3. It is what it is V.J and wanting things to be different only leads to disappointment and suffering. I actually had to look up the meaning of discord but reading this I understand now. Thank you.

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  4. When ill health takes over, it changes everything. Well meaning loved ones urge the “stay strong” cheer without understanding. This captures it all. Very powerful.

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