The Disabled Among Us

They learn in time that sleep permits a respite from the pain And while not tired, use their wits, escape to surely gain, For pills aren't always fast enough, to wipe out what they feel And while such sleep they learn to love, they know it's time they steal. Thus time goes fleeting, day or night, when breathing rates are paced, Pain struggles on, as if to fight, till sleep that hurt has chased... The hours melt, no dreams at all... till one arrives and shares, Like some distracting miracle that overcomes life's cares... As if the Lord then overflows with dream tales to unfold, Till good or bad, their highs and lows must fade when life takes hold... The pain returns... or it has gone... the gamble won or lost... Disabled folks must carry on, regardless of the cost... Some seize the day revitalised, some choose to take things slow... Some see their lives more highly prized... some barely want to know... Yet either way, hope still persists, returning when it can... As long as suffering exists... pray for your fellow man... Denis Martindale July 2019. This is the sort of poetry that could be sung slowly to a common metre hymn, with 8-6-8-6 syllables, like the tune God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Let Nothing Ye Dismay.