Lead and Mush
—Living With CFS—
Sometimes
When my muscles are lead
And my brain is mush
And nothing in me can sleep
I pretend I am dying.
I have walked far,
Over mountains
And back
So there is some good reason I am so tired.
It is cold
And I lie down
Under a bush or a tree
Perhaps on some soft snow
Or frosty leaves.
I get so cold
I sleep
And I die.
Finally,
Rest.
Sometimes someone rescues me.
Sometimes they don’t.
Do I ever want to get up again?
Not when I am lead and mush:
Joints creaking,
Head screaming.
All that will go away,
But it will be back,
In force,
Or to drag,
And nag,
And pester.
So why should I get up?
Because no one else will sweep the kitchen floor?
And I guess, no one else
Will be me.
Is it worth the effort?
Sometimes.
Remember that.