Last One

It’s hard to think of healing, when you’re dying all over.

It’s not easy when you’re dealing with being a ‘crossover’.

You’ve always been the ‘strong one’, or so you thought…

but now your confidence is shattered, your certainty is naught.


Chronic illness has this way of taking everything you are,

and making every second of every day a new and permanent scar.


What we forget when we are in the thick of it,

is that we have a choice.

We can pull ourselves through

when we’re finally sick of it.


Sick of being a victim.

Sick of searching for blame.

Sick of being a patient.

Sick of playing their game.

Sick of the boxes of pills.

Sick of reporting your ills.


We wait for answers from outside of ourselves,

from people on pedestals, in white lab coats and shelves.

“But they know so much more about us than we”

They make us go “Ahhh” and bang on our knee.

We give them our power, and wait…. wait and see.

We’re holding our breath for answers from folks,

mere humans like us who poo and who poke.

Yet we wait till our death.


The role of the victim is a powerful one,

without its powerful juice, the evening news would be none.

Without it there would be no wars, no fights, no drama,

we could just get sick and deal with the trauma.

Too many get hooked on this powerful drug,

it doesn’t come in a box, just ‘down on your luck’.


The answer to healing lies within,

that’s your Higher Self, that barely audible din.

It’s whispering the secret that you need to hear,

that in your life YOU’RE the puppeteer.

The answer’s within, not outside

it starts with Courage, and it ends with LOVE.