Battleground
Battleground
Battleground
by Myra Chappius
I am wrackedEmotional meter at levels never before seenI feel the burden of responsibilityin my bonesin the scattered presentation of my mindin the long-held gaze to the other side of a bedroom window, eyes roaming the landscape in search of some kinship of feeling from nature
My back aches with exhaustionConnected—by an invisible thread—to my spirit, stiff with suffering
My essence feels under attack battered distressed run ragged by an inner circle defined penchant towards strengthfurther hampered by self-imposed guilt
In this moment, I detest strengthI loathe the implication and all that comes with itI despise the escape route it creates for others — a road taken liberally that leaves behind only faux sympathy and empty sentiments
It is only with hindsight that the struggle seems lighterTime has a way of turning old burdens into triumphsmaking them cloud over with compassionsoftening the edges draining the poison
There is nothing poetic about my painIt lives with me right now face-to-face
And only one of us is winning.
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Featured in our January 2023 issue, "Turmoil"