Inspired by the haunting cadence of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven," this reinterpretation attempts to echo the very real struggles faced by our chronic illness community. In the bleak months to come, I wish for you, my fellow Mighties, that the coming year gifts you with many spoons, and that your inner light continues to prevail wherever darkness may lurk 🖤
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a faint and symptom of forgotten health lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the weak December,
And each separate dying ember writhed ghost like upon the floor.
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for my lost health's morrow,
For the rare and radiant treasure of the health I had before —
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with harrowing terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
Some spectral figure entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven, sent from Odin's vast halls of yore.
Not the least greeting made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with the air of a lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Hippocrates just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
"Art thou Huginn or Muninn?" I inquired with voice thinning,
Seeking wisdom from the raven, as in ancient Norse lore.
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art Odin's haven,
Ghostly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Hellish shore —
Is there hope or respite on the cold and distant Hellish shore?”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art no cowardly craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the health-filled shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on this Night’s Hellish shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such a name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the pallid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my health has flown before.”
The bird responded, “Nevermore.”
#MightyPoets #DistractMe #ChronicFatigue #Spoonie #Fibromyalgia #MyalgicEncephalomyelitis #Endometriosis #HypothyroidismUnderactiveThyroidDisease #WarmWishes #Insomnia #Migraine #Grief #Lupus #LymeDisease #IrritableBowelSyndromeIBS #MightyTogether #MyCondition
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