(x = space)

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Bland Recovery

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I was hoping

I’d feel better

Even with the brace

I couldn’t find

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I was hoping

I could cross my legs

To write

And not pay for it,

Afterward

With added pain

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Here I am on

The fifth Saturday

Wishing it would

Go away,

Wishing that

Too much would

Go away

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Well, I can walk

On it but then

I wear it out

And it wants to cry,

To complain

About injustice

And why it should

Be me

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Time to think

About the others,

Which sometimes

Is cold comfort

For why should

You hurt more

So that I feel less

And berate myself

For lack

Of sympathy?

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Sigh,

The days goes on

And I am in it

You’re there, too,

Most likely with

Your greater pain

And I’m sorry,

Really am

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I hope we are

Forgiven for

All the nothing we

Have done

To warrant pain

As punishment

And the lessons others

Will impose

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Our pain an object—then

An object lesson

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash

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