Friday 4 April 2014

A Poem for Multiple Sclerosis Awareness

To continue our celebration this National Month of Poetry, I'm posting another song I've written.  This one is
told through the voice of a young musician who is forced to put his passion aside due to the tragic disease Multiple Sclerosis.  This disease is heart breaking, and continues to baffle scientists and doctors. If this poem inspires you in any way, please consider learning more on how you can help by contacting the MS Society at mssociety.ca.  There are annual fundraising events you might enjoy participating in or volunteering for, or perhaps you'd rather donate funds.  Either way, lets do what we can to help those touched by Multiple Sclerosis.


I WANT REMISSION

I rest my palm against this silent guitar,
And remember when her music rang for the stars.
The only time she was quiet was when I slept upon my back,
Or words sped through my head on a one-way track.

My back is not bent and my joints are not worn,
It’s merely my pride that has been mangled and torn.
This cloud in my mind holds me needing and weak,
And hoping each day for a positive leap,
Toward a spell of remission,
So I forget my condition,
I’d make my own decisions,
And once again strum my love… and make her sing.

Now her strings are tuneless, her body’s covered with dust,
And though sitting she haunts my musician’s lust.
The words come ever freely though now I’m forced to dictate,
And stare at my heart as they say I must wait.

My lyrics are flat when merely ink upon paper,
I want to feel them move, to drift and caper.
But when sung by another they don’t feel the same,
And unable to bring them life I battle with my rage.

I often scream cause not even God knows,
What it is my future holds,
I’m afraid my body will forever be a cage,
That shouldn't have barred me until I aged.

My back is not bent and my joints are not worn,
It’s merely my pride that has been mangled and torn.
This cloud in my mind holds me needing and weak,
And hoping each day for a positive leap,
Toward a spell of remission,
So I forget my condition,
I’d make my own decisions,
And once again strum my love… and make her sing.



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