There is anger in dis-ease,
an impotent railing against
the injustice of biological
systems bent on breaking
souls; this relentless drag,
this mournful existence,
it is not pity that we seek,
nor charity that appeases
but answers, pragmatic
protocols, procedures to
dissuade the onslaught
of symptoms, unburden
our suffering – none of us
weak, yet disheartened by
medical abandonment,
many confined in isolation
our embers, seething
beneath bedclothes,
burning behind eyes
that have lost focus
forgive us if we rant,
if our conduct reeks of
self-righteousness, but we
are missing, millions missing
plagued by a condition
long ignored, misconstrued,
dismissed, we are angry
unapologetically maddened
have been blighted by
an illness without definable
diagnosis, pronounced only
by elimination, overlooked
by insurance providers,
disability claims, as if we
have construed an alibi
for opting out of society
if we lash out, speak out
express our discomfort
in uncomely ways, well
then listen, reasoning
guides our hands, our
voices, our rampages –
we are disappointed,
frustrated, unheeded
and very much alive
and individually, and
collectively we wield
our ire as a cry for help.
See us, feel us, find
the resources to seek
for a cure, reinstate
the lives of the missing.
One Woman's Quest 