WITHIN AND WITHOUT

He is dying.
'The Wolf' has me in its grip
and though I fight It
with all my strength,
it is not enough and I am failing.
Once, I held my friend in my arms to save him,
but now I weep, for
I cannot help him.

He is dying.
For months I have watched him
and fed him, and touched him
but I cannot stop the inevitable.
My best friend is failing.
I cannot bear the thought
of being without him, but
I cannot help him.

He is dying.
I curse the pain given me by 'The Wolf',
and my inadequacies,
and beg his forgiveness for my weaknesses-
explain to him that I lack the strength
to hold him on my lap again.
But it matters not why
I cannot help him.

He is dying.
I reach inside my chest and
pull out my heart as it beats
in rhythm with my head
and tell them "it's time".
I can no longer watch him suffer and
My last gift to him is the only way
I can help him.

He is gone
and I will have to learn how to live
without my old friend.
'The Wolf' grins
and I obediently take my medicine.
The ache within my bones
matches that in the hole in my chest
and I pray for strength within to live without.

I say to myself,

"I will not help 'The Wolf'".

By Ellen Schnakenberg 8-29-08

This poem is deeply personal and was written while I agonize over the decision to euthanize my horse as I endure a debilitating Lupus flare.  I once did the impossible, saving him from a fracture by holding him up and giving him my legs for nearly an hour. 

The physical pain of losing a loved one is not unlike the debilitating pain of 'The Wolf'.