Suffering
by Shelley Ingraham, , March 15, 2006
The feet once full of life, running about as though life depended on it, lay withered and thin, unused for so long an unnatural pale. The once beautifully carved legs, made of muscle and delicately intricate veins, the envy of all who saw them, now are a weak sickly yellow, all beauty gone. Shrunken muscles, the veins barely pulsating as they once did. The upper torso which was thought so fat, now stretched so tightly it could puncture, shows each rib like a cage holding a defeated prisoner, only going through the motions like the feeble heart is now. We used to joke about your “arms of steel” “their indestructible”. we can all see this isn’t true now. Minuscule muscles cling to the bone, unable to lift themselves without the help of a nurse. The shoulders which used to carry so much look like they belong to an infant unfit for your strong body. Your neck once strong and thick looks like a weak wall, covered with ivy. Each vein distinct, you can count the number of rings in your spine. Only your face, retains your beauty though it seems faded, as though in a far off place. Your strong chiseled chin and cheekbones are still there, though the skin hangs from them. The rosy cheeks are gone, replaced with pale pasty white, slick to the touch. The freckles you hated so much, stand out against their white background. And we hate them for they remind us of what you used to be. Your eyes, green, so bright and full of life, are listless. They hold a haunted look, so captivating, you are grabbed and held, left to stare death in the face. Your beautiful hair, from your Asian ancestors is gone. In its place a few stubs of prickly hair. I stand and wait and watch for you to go.
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