“It Hurts”: a poem about pain

By Rick Field

It hurts so much...

When will it stop?

“Hurts”? 

Such a tiny, inadequate, weedy word; belies its true worth.

This entity permeates with its osmotic personality. 

How alone am I with my exclusive and mighty pain? 

An immense solitude encapsulates me.

So pure – such beautiful, impressive, and present pain as

I am, more than ever, in “the now”!

There is... nothing else. Nowhere else. No time else.

Demanding and, quite deserving, of such respect and deference; 

“OK, you have my absolute and undivided attention!”

The early hours are the worst…

Senses sharpened like a 9H, all too aware of my ache!

Talk about alone... just “It” and I, on a crazy blind date from hell,

excruciating existential agony with

no room for thoughts of such trivial things as… 

AARGH! 

Oh fuck… fuck yes, thanks for reminding me, how dare I let my mind drift?

Okay, breathe, just breathe – slow it down.

Piercing, stabbing, throbbing, crushing… 

please, oh please how can I make it stop!?

“Take back control!” 

Writhing on the bed, messily wrapped in the hot, damp duvet.

Pillows strewn on the floor. 

Moist mattress, imprinted like the Turin Shroud!

Grimacing, tensed... cheeks wet with tainted tears. 

Hair matted.

Make it stop!

What should I do?

Well, nothing to do but… wait. Wait until the next pill - mine own sweet medication,

then... wait till it starts to take hold and course through my grateful veins,

then... wait till I begin to taste that tiny window of blissful numb, comfortable numb.

And I cry

salty tears, tumble from my eyes. 

The ever-running tap.

And – as I cautiously settle in, ensconced on those tentative laurels,

after enjoying that wonderful hour!

The audacity of welcoming the initial tendrils of rest and – dare I? – sleep

how I missed you, come to me, oh sweet oblivion… take me in your loving arms!

A first-class ticket from “Will this ever end” to “Could it finally be over”?

Stopping at every station in-between. 

And then… alas – it’s the Circle Line!

Ah, hello again, old friend, constant companion. I see you're back – I didn't miss you! 

How long are you here for this time?

A new day dawns after the long, lonely, desperate dark.

Here we go again. I see my ticket is still valid – undated, it seems.

Immense pain burns acrid odour,

only picked up by those fortunate enough to remain without.

Sharp and steady, visitors pretend and ignore – bringing flowers to mask 

And I am thankful.

The non-ill can't help it.

Aware yet uncaring, low on priority – begging to break out of these four walls.

Curtains drawn and windows opened – “Let some air in!” 

Gritted teeth and laboured breath… 

counting the patterns, familiarity of imperfections of all in my vision.

I know this room well, intimately!

Books and imagination my only escape, 

my only way out,

my key.

Now… where’s the door?

It hurts so much...

When will it stop?