A fellow fibromyalgia member sent me this poem. It rings so true to our experiences and it is a wonderful piece. So much so I asked him if I could share it with you.
In the hour…
When the hour has wane; when the witching hour is nigh;
The inky well of blackness creeps through my sinews welt the eyes to cry.
I hear upon my window a scratching; a pecking; a noise will not go away;
I pray God will send his angels to stop it; I cry for the break of day.
The noise I dread to discover, the noise my heart stops to hear.
A raven has perched upon my window; his black eyes turns in to peer.
With my body aching and twisting; my skin drenched, sticky with sweat;
I go to the window to confront this creature; I have no idea of the threat.
I wonder why this wretched bird comes to haunt me, in the thick and darkest night;
Why does he bring such sorrow and pain? Why my mind terrors to fright?
He brings things I dread; pain; things I fear; he brings past failures and all my sin;
He does not let up for a breath; he flies into my heart deep within.
He starts to claw and devour; in the holes the blackness slithers, seeping inside;
He treats my heart like carrion; he feasts my insides betide.
Why must this raven come to torture me? Why can’t I fight him to go?
Why does the pain want to consume me? Why must heaven only know?
The night tolls long and arduous; molasses the second hand ticks;
My body is frozen with bewilderment; I cannot believe I am really this sick.
Raven, leave me, and let me alone, your ravage rips me til I am sore;
The devil just looks with a dead pan face and screams to me, “Nevermore!”
By Sean Hovater