Sometimes I just want to cry.
And sometimes I just do.
But so often, mere tears falling
are the first rains of the coming
storm, of the crash triggered
by the slightest exertion, even
grieving the life that was
but is no more, the one
I can only touch in dreams
or memory, proves a costly
misstep. One of the few constants –
the tortuous nature of this illness
can never be underestimated.
So today, I draw my curtains early,
place myself beyond the reach
of tears, breathe as gently as I can,
and pray to no one in particular
that it won’t be like this forever.
Tim Murphy (he/him) is a disabled, bisexual poet from the Pacific Northwest. His writing explores chronic illness, disability justice, and the more-than-human world. He is currently bedbound with Long Covid and severe ME. Tim’s poetry appears in Louisiana Literature, The Sunlight Press, ONE ART, Wordgathering, Writers Resist, and the books, The Long Covid Reader (2023) and Songs of Revolution (2024). Instagram and Twitter (@brokenwingpoet).
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