Mastering Self – A Poem

“What is MS?”

I was stunned

that he didn’t

know. I lived

with it inside

of me every

day, every minute.

I carried it

like a stone

or wore it

like a shroud.

“Seriously? You don’t know?”

The truth was,

neither did I.

It was a

disease with no

rhyme or reason

to it and

I was still

learning what it

was capable of.

“Yeah, like, is it contagious?”

I shook my

head, unsure of

how to respond.

I thought of

all the lives

that it touched:

my family, people

who know and

love me. It

affected everyone, even

though I was

the one to

carry it. I

turned to him.

“Not in the way that you’re thinking.”

There was so

little known about

all of the

why’s and how’s

of MS. I

was still learning

about it and

what it was

capable of.

I was still

learning about myself

all over again

when I thought

I knew who

I was already.

“So how does it affect your life?”

I thought it

was a startlingly

personal question, so

I gave it

some personal thought.

I was not

the same person

as I was

before. I was

still me, but

a different me:

more thankful, more

joyous, more grateful,

more; just more.

I had thrown

myself onto my

path, the road

to mastering my

self, to knowing

who I was

now. Who I

had become. I

turned to face

him and the

words were simple.

“It helped start me on the path to finding myself.”

He looked at

me as if

unsure he had

heard correctly. He

scratched his head.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

I gave him

one last look.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

I turned and

walked away from

him, leaving the

shroud and stone

behind.