Throwing Up


New member
I'm working so hard
I'm trying to live
But I'd like to lie down
I'd like to give in

This world is so fast
I cannot keep up
My body's too slow
I'm not good enough

Why am I trying?
Why can't I stop?
Why do I keep giving
More than I've got?

I push my body
Until it is dead
Then I force it to live
And push on ahead

Dying is easy
And living is hard
How could I ever
Have gotten this far?

There's a Spirit withing me
Who's doing it all
He won't let me quit
He won't let me fall

This strength I've been given
Cannot be suppressed
Not by my weakness
Nor my distress

Like a run-away train
I'm designed to push on
I'm made to endure
All the day long

I know I shall rest
Someday, someday soon
But today I am living
Living anew

Yes, I am tired
Yes, I'm in pain
Yes, I'm alone
And broken again

Yes, I am tortured
And taken abuse
But these circumstances
Are not an excuse

For the Spirit within me
Has conquered them all
He overcame the world
And I follow His call

So give me this illness
And threaten my life
Give me this pain
And I will survive

Give me disgrace
And make my life tough
Strike me down
And watch me get up

Consume me and crush me
And put me to grief
Destroy my body
And I shall be pleased

I shall face this day
And I shall endure
I don't need analgesic
I don't need a cure

Nothing, yes nothing
Can destroy my faith
For Jesus had died
And now He is raised

And His Spirit within me
Has given me all
I need to be joyful
And move any wall


Super Moderator
Indeed you capture the indomitable spirit that seems to be the hidden genetic component in CF survival. As a little boy my parents went from my pneumonia with meningitis to encephalitis interposed with the real fear that either was polio. For me I pushed on, what was happening was just more of what already had been happening. What else could I do? There is no denying this is SO very hard to do.

Your powerful poem expresses something that I believe MUST be common amongst CFer's. Even within the group of CF patients, one disease expression such as pulminary focused problems can't be fully understood by patients with GI issues. But we all share a life of such excitement only soldiers who have survived multiple incidents of mortal combat or such can begin to relate to a life on the edge. For us one mistep could be the last. Truly the equivalent of a sword by a hair hangs above our heads when our focus is making it up a five flight walk up without passing out knowing this is just the start of another life packed busy day.

All life is hard. Myself I can say that short of base or bungee jumping (minor thrills in the province of real life experience) I have lived a life so crammed with adventure it seems unimaginable I had time to be sick. CF is something we feel much deeper than even our sexual identity. It is like a fire that burns our bellies all the way up to our sinuses. At once unable to catch our breath from the effort and the conquering thrill of accomplishment we are sapped for a time. But too often we must climb on without that rest.

What you beautifly ascribe to spirit, both a motivating attitude and the driving etherial soul I often called driving something by sheer force of personality. Possibly it is both less accurate and less poetic than your description which I feel but am lost at conveying.

Jesus or a collective conscience, I hear your deep belief. It either has or will pass that all that people faced with death first hand are assured first hand the journey will continue after the body dies off.



Super Moderator
If you copyright the poem make sure to correct the one typo at your first use of "Spirit within(g) me". I make typo's so easily and often and normally would never correct a word. I think so much of your writing it should be shared.