Being Framed

Sometimes there is a song needing to be sung, a word waiting to be heard, or a poem pressing to be penned.

Today is one of those days.

My offering is a poetic lament in support of M.E. Awareness Week (May 6th - 12th) and the way people with this condition are often perceived.  You can click on the link to find out more about it.

Being Framed

I've been framed, boxed, categorised,

sifted, found wanting in society's eyes.

I'm not the woman they think they see,

but an inner person that's really me.

Viewing the image the mirror provides

if I dare to risk, turning away with sighs;

decades of illness have left their mark

and it's hard to bear living in shaded dark.

My eyes need rest I urgently seek,

the brain is foggy, body made weak.

Pain and deformity cripple the frame

and it's hard to remember inside I'm the same.

A woman with dreams and a heart to express

all that's buried within, though under duress.

I want to be seen as I feel inside

but external appearance can cause me to hide.

Days without number I face my fears

that grow as hard to scale as our home stairs,

that this won't go away and I might not be healed

that the inner joy may be forever concealed.

For it's hard to stay cheerful, harder still to be bright

in a world that pushes us out of sight.

We're the invisible people, out of the game

our only identity is pain and shame.

Huge in number, if weak of voice,

the nameless ones who cannot rejoice

until labels and badges no longer apply

and we don't have to keep asking you, “Why?”

Why not believe us, why not accept

this could happen to you, being sick, life wrecked.

Your body a tomb for a spirit that's chained,

a livelihood lost, prison sentence gained.

Eyes that accuse, hearts that are hard

do nothing but continue marking our card.

Treated with scorn, hostility, derision

our whole future residing on whim of decision.

Fear haunts our days and disturbs our nights,

energy drained further to keep fighting our rights.

Please, won't you listen and heed the weak

as you hear our stories of the justice we seek?

Please remember we are people too,

not numbers, statistics, a warped world view.

Lives are at stake as bodies fail,

strong in intent, though our hearts quail.

Life in the Slow Lane can be no life at all

when it grinds to a halt against a brick wall.

If you know someone who has M.E,

please help them and tell them you see;

you witness their pain, you understand the need

and you won't turn away, you will pay heed.

All we ask is for people to see who we are,

recognising this disease will take us far

into a future where compassion can reign

instead of resentment, sadness and shame.

©JoyLenton2013

"Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged until he establishes justice on earth. In his law the islands will put their hope." ~ Isaiah 42:1 - 4

 Linking here with Nacole at sixinthesticks for concrete words, where we seek to express the abstract by means of a concrete word prompt. Todays is:The Frame. You are very welcome to join in.

You can stay in touch with my posts by Google Friend Connect, following on Twitter or by liking my Facebook page.