August #3

Living through the pain

My compatriot urged his dad

to rage against the dying of the light

but my rage is against pain

and blood and tears and sweat

and hope getting stomped

when it peeps its little

chocolate-buttony bright eyes

over the top of the trench

where it very wisely hid

until optimism once more

triumphed over experience.

I watch you living through the pain

and I try to find something positive

in your brave, dogged fight

and I love you for your strength,

your weakness, your quirks,

your failings, your heart

but I cannot find anything positive

that wasn't already a part of you

before the adversary arrived

and this torment began.

I want to scoop you up

in my arms and hold you

until the danger passes

but you see it never does.

That bloody enemy stalks

us all the time and never sleeps

and even if I doze with one eye

open it still sneaks in because

nobody can win against it every time

and it only needs to win once.

— Michele Brenton