A Thousand Somedays

A Thousand Somedays

A thousand somedays
scan the sky,
with scorching rays
and frigid nights.

In desert haze,
oasis fades
hope as fragile dew.

Grit of sand
in gritted teeth,
still I crawl
in search
of someday…

on the wind
of endless dunes.

Author’s Notes:

This poem was written in reflection of more than a decade of chronic illness. Many nights, I would say to my wife before bed, “Is tomorrow the day when I’ll feel better?”

Sometimes I said that knowing that tomorrow held an appointment with a new doctor, or a new treatment to try.

Other times, I said it more out of desperation, knowing full well that tomorrow would not actually be the day. No rescue was on the way.

A couple weeks after writing this poem, I ended up in the Emergency Room with a severe reaction to a new medication. For several days after, I was still dealing with a recurring severe migraine. Stuck in a dark, silent room with only my thoughts, robbed even of sleep to help me escape my pain.

One way I kept my sanity was by reciting this poem over and over. It was a struggle to bring each phrase to mind, and the slow effort served as a distraction. Plus, the poem, in spite of its despairing tone, brought me hope. Because ultimately, the poem is not about hopelessness, but about grit and determination to keep going, even if I must crawl.

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