My morning....

I awake to the sounds of an angel calling my name.

I feel the warmth of her form next to me, I smile.

My heart lays sleeping, her breath coming softly.

As quiet as a 200 pound blind and arthritic mouse.

I kiss her gently on the cheek before I sneak away.

Heading to the room where the angel calls my name.

I think about how many people can't see what I do.

Others, wonder how one can endure such a situation.

For me, this morning is another a dream come true.

As I open the door I am greeted with a smiling face.

“HEAWO!” he says grinning as I gather him up.

He crawls up in his chair, I go through the routine.

At the end he is fed, medicated, changed and happy.

This is my life, I am so happy to be able to have it.

A new poem, very dark and grim but with hope.

It begins, pain racing outward a white hot sheet of sensation.

I struggle with the daily trial by combat my mind must wage.

The shock cascades through my form overwhelming my senses.

I begin to buckle under the ambush, silently I fight on, and I must.

Awash in this climax of agony, motion and awareness my enemy.

My stomach churns as I see the world behind a storm of fireflies.

The hurt threatens to drown me, with no hope of blissful release.

As the wave passes through my legs, leaving them cold and numb.

Only the throbbing ache remains as I recover to wage war again.

I worry sometimes that I will fall, what if some day I cannot go on?

I hope I am never weak enough to give in, to stop fighting as I do.

Most never see my distress nor would understand why I endure.

I will allow no one will take this from me or treat me as a cripple.

I will not bitch and moan as everyone has a personal pain to bear.

I AM a man, I will battle with this for my duration or until I break.

I only pity those who will give in to the pressure and not move on.

But I will always pay this price gladly, for the single step of a stair.