Not Yet Dead

I have been abandoned.
Persecuted by lovers and demons.
Starved. Cut. Shot at from a distance.
Fired. Laid off. Sick.
Cancer has riddled my body.
Tendons have failed.
Ribs have cracked.
And the worst wounds, those not mentioned
were self afflicted.

And yet here I am.
Not dead
in body or spirit.
Tougher, evidently, than I look.
The faith I have at times struggled to hold,
stronger still.

No wonder I dance.
Half in defiance.
Half in joy.

Come with me, all you broken soldiers.
Dance with me.
Howl at the moon.
And make love
with your life.

About this poem

Apologies to Monty Python and “Spamalot” for the title.

Tom