Caffeine is anti-inflammatory,
so I guess I may as well.
There is no end to this misery
but time, and to move when I can —
to rethink and suck my teeth
in panic when I move wrong,
amazed at what can hurt
when a back is not strong.
Last night, I walked our dog
but never reached the park,
holding on to fences, lampposts,
begging her to understand
why we couldn’t play ball,
why she couldn’t be a dog
pulling at her leash while I
hung back in my fog.
Every time this happens,
it’s like a bill that has come due
for weight not lost and strength
not gained, and all the stress
pushed down and down
to lower vertebrae, unseen
but then screaming,
the ghosts in my machine.
And every time this happens,
I say what I’ll say now:
I’ll do better and live better,
go to Pilates class and breathe,
sleep more and worry less,
and never come this way again
because I’ll be different
from how I’ve ever been.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Today’s prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads is an invented form called an A L’Arora. Also, I was really stupid yesterday and moved many heavy bags of compost when I was recovering from a minor back pain problem, which then became much less minor (as you can see).
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
Oh those promises we make to ourselves and break. I wish you well. I too have back pains for the precise same reason. The poem caused me to feel your pain and to feel sympathy for your dog.
I try to stand up in the morning and I ask my other muscles to help … and they are not there! And yes, poor dog. Usually, we go to the park, even at midnight, and play a short round of ball under the street lights. She was confused, and I felt vulnerable because of the late hour.
Yikes! I hope you’re alright 💜 beautiful work on the form, I love the easy rhymes, cadence and flow. 💜
You certainly describe it vividly! My sympathies, and please don’t do that again!
such pain does render a beautiful poem. I hope you get better soon
I can completely relate – and it’s not a good feeling, nor the whole “it gets in your head and you promise, swear, bash and beat yourself up” for it – and all “failed attempts” at “change”. I hope you manage to find some lasting relief and rest – and slowly, work at making the changes, one small step at a time, which, in the end – add up to something positive.
And even as the topic is not pleasant, and most certainly you’ve penned it well, with the emotionally cramping and lightning strike, stabbing pain, you’ve also in some way, offered it a sort of “I’m gonna put you in your place” right now – since all you can do in the real time, is rest, take it easy, be careful and then, start again.
Ow! I hope it feels a bit better by now.
P.S. this is a wonderful poem from your pain. (Writing releases endorphins, right? Right?)