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Zahc Once the title of a failed blog I attempted, which can still be found, I believe, somewhere lost in Google Land, which I may try to resurrect, it is now a collection of thoughts, ideas, and dreams, very much influenced by the Lupus/Fibro/Chronic Pain I have; this enterprize--too--may fail, and I very much crave your kind support, truthful comments, and encouragement as I try to find my way, and--in doing so-- hope to offer the same to all who suffer even as I do.
There can be no pretention; there will be no lies, nor deception. Or false hopes.
In search of honesty and awareness, I can only offer up my prayers, thoughts, aspirations.
The 'Postern Of Fate' is but a gate, beyond which lay the uncertainties of the real world; inside lies the refuge, the comfort, security and sanctuary that we make of our homes, to guard against the unknowable.
All I have to offer is my limited and personal insight. Though, I readily offer--too--a ready ear, and--I hope, an open heart.
And--as always--I wish all 'well days' and peaceful nights.
Love,
'Zahc'
...Read More


" But Then, Up, And Mr. Pain Come In "

Jul 25 2012


" But Then, Up, And Mr. Pain Come In "
( in the style of an early American folksong, after Stephen Foster, or, a Spiritual )


07/25/12


Once'd I'sa was one happy man
Fo' I'sa felt so good, and free.
But then, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
An' stole it all from me.


I'sa work all day out in de sun
For hours ‘till I'sa be a-sweatin;
but then, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
these days, I'sa keep forgettin'.


I'sa used to have a lot ‘o friends,
And we'd have lots ‘o fun,
but then, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
dey lef' me one by one.


I'sa used' ta range de County wide,
Now, I'sa cain't walk dat far;
Cuz when, up and Mr. Pain Come in,
I'sa laid low by my catarrah.


Wid my Miss Susie on my arm
We'd dance haf through de night.
But then, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
an' she lef me, all a-fright.


My fam'ly say I'sa don look sick,
Just cus I'sa look de same.
Since when, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
Dey blame me all de same.


I'sa used to go to Sunday church
to hear de preacher man.
But then, up, and Mr. Pain come in,
is dis my Savior's plan?


I'sa ask, sweet Lawd, please heal my ague,
an' take away my fev'rish pain,
But then, up, and Mr. Pain come in
to make me hurt again.


I'sa ask, sweet mercy, Mary,
how come I'sa so sick, and why?
An' always, up, and Mr. Pain comes in,
For I'sa expects I'll be this way,
‘till day I'sa up an' die.

End


To my ever dear, and treasured friends, and constant, loyal readers, the ‘poem', above was but an experiment in sounds, not in any way meant to offend anyone.

Please forgive me, dearest friends, for I still hurt (as I MUST use that topical cream most sparingly !), and, for some completely unknown reason, I am s-o-o-o-o-o very, very tired, today.


I think of you so very often, and wish so much for you, no pain, or, lessened pain, or distress; surrounded by those who love you, and care for you.

I also wish everyone a break from this awful heat wave that seems to have gripped the Country. Please stay as cool as you can, my dear friends.

Please take care, and know I love you dearly!

‘Zahc'



Previous diary posts by Zahc:
Comments (2)Add Comment
written by STRENUBA, July 26, 2012
no need to apologize for offending anyone, because if they know the pain and despair, it doesnt matter how the poem is written. I enjoyed it very much my friend. Now offense here, but then again, I am not easily offended as you well know. Loved it.
Bryan
written by mabri, July 27, 2012
Zahc,
You are a special person, with the mind and thoughts of a genious. I once again applaud your poem as it has been written not only with your thoughts, but putting it in the thoughts and words of someone else. Bravo HUGS

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