You've tried your best to break me, I'm twisted, weak and lame.

You've beat my very being and you brought me endless pain.

As a barren tree in winter silhouettes the cold, dark sky,

So my body stands in memory of bright, warm days gone by.

I've been raped of independence, I'm depressed beyond despair,

As I watch the heavy burden, laid on those who truly care.

 I gaze into the mirror, surprised at what I see,

And wonder who this cripple is, who's looking back at me.

But you have not destroyed me with your whisperings of dread,

With the shame and guilty feelings that come dancing in my head.

Through tears that blur my vision, I still can somehow see,

A light that shines in darkness, that's plainly guiding me.

For though the road's been lonely, the path I walk is mine.

Jewels stand out from the ashes and shine from time to time.

And it's been through the raging storms that often take their toll,

That I have found the courage that slept deep in my soul.

Your shame has made me humble, and frustrations made me see

That much of what I wanted would suppress a greater me.

What good are legs to carry me if there's no place to run,

Round and round pretending that we're getting something done?

Well, I've become exhausted as I listen to your lies,

"Don't give up," you warn me, "or you shall surely die!"

I shall rest upon this altar, may I let all efforts go.

Let the grace of true surrender bring the peace I've come to know.

No, you have not destroyed me, for I know that in the end,

That you'll remove your scary mask, and I shall call you friend.

FYI- Sylvi is a 52-year-old woman who has struggled with severe rheumatoid arthritis for almost 35 years. This poem describes her journey as she's tried to cope with this illness.