Someone in my family once said,
The good thing about being very ill,
Is that when you get too feeling just alright…maybe,
It feels so great, that anything is possible
Even when I was given that wisdom,
I didn’t realize its full depth.
I was in a hospital,
Feeling the freedom of winning the first internal battle of a long-term war.
Looking back fifteen years
I understand it now,
Even as I walk the empty battlefield,
Victors must still face explosions, wounds, and scars
Long after signatures dry on treatise
The pain is not the same,
Is no less blissful.