A poem John wrote five years prior to Cynthia’s diagnosis...

It speaks to the chaos and devastation of undiagnosed chronic pain, but also to the affirming clarity that emerges from great challenge.

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Forever, it seems, we cry “out damned spot”
made near crazed with desperate spite
by this devil without a face
this fate without so much a name…

Sometimes faith seems but a poor, bastard child
cornered, cowering from bitterness and scorn;
confusion and self-pity reign
this game where simple survival is struggle…

We seem trapped in a ship of fooled
careening down an unforgiving river
made from countless unrequited tears;
we try to stay the course without the stars…

...O, unbearable weight,
as the body aches,
the spirit tends to break…

And, yes, it would be so easy
to be counted among the defeated
for this foe is mighty hell
and compassion is numbered among the missing…

So we must seek a way
out of this cruel labyrinth
for there is a warmth and kindness
on the other side…

Like Dorothy’s rainbow and King’s dream,
IT IS OUT THERE,
and when it is found
nothing will be forgiven, nothing forgotten…

For it is us, we are it
but like anything in life
the whole is greater than the parts
and hope wages supreme in love’s heart…

— j.g. ‘90