The Hill, a poem by : Jode Cox

Mount Leinster
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

The Hill

by : Jode Cox

The road keeps getting longer
the farther that I walk
A head wind seems to push me back
I don’t have the breath to talk

My lungs they burn, my heart it pounds
My throat is getting dry
I see a looming hill ahead
And now I want to cry

To you this hill may seem small
To me it is a mountain
I don’t want to ask you for help
I keep going as fast as I can

I slow with every footstep
Until I have to stop
I find a way to busy my self
To pretend there is nothing wrong

.

To admit this trouble to you
Is to admit it to myself
I don’t want to ask of others
I want to do this myself

I feel this is all my fault
If only I could heal
The shame I feel at every gasp
This journey has become too real

If only I was stronger
This disease I could have fought
It silently crept up to me
The illness I don’t want

Each day I am able to do less
No matter how hard I try
For now I can only do my best
You don’t even understand why

..

I used to run and jump and play
Nothing too hard to do
Now the smallest task I take
I must ask for help from you

You think I don’t see the resentment
The bitterness in your face
You think I chose to be sick
To give up on my life in this place

This hill is not enormous
The one you gave to me
I will make it to the top
I will do it just for me