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Poetry by people who have CMT about CMT

My Friend CMT
by Ted Y. Laverty, ON, Canada

There is someone I'd like you to meet.
He lives with me, in me, mostly in my feet,
Of this fact I could not care less...
But he leaves the place in such a mess.

He's my friend C.
His full name is CMT;
But you can call him C,
When you've known him as long as me.

Since he's here until the end,
I've endeavoured to call him "friend."
Though I wonder if he cares,
When he trips me down the stairs.

I really don't like C.
But he must like me;
Whey else would he stay,
When told to go away?

He is like a little voice,
That tells me I have no choice,
That there are places I don't belong;
And I must prove him wrong.

We've had long talks,
By way of short walks,
But he has come to see,
That I'm stronger than he.

So when I greet him each day,
With confidence I say,
"Good morning old friend.
Today, you'll lose again."

Ted is a student at York University

The New Triathletes

by Rosalie Floyd, BC, Canada

The weak winter sun sinks to south of west
Drifting down the gold arc of heaven.

To hide, to sleep, to rise once more restored;
Ah, so might we be renewed with strength.

Like morning glow peaking the mountain rim,
Afresh and eager for another whirl of day.

O Life and Hope the fitful race to run.
A day of challenge new under sun, or cloud

Or rain, or snow, or thin light of moon.
God's grace we crave to run this race aright.

With heavy limbs and balance weary
But Hope and Faith are strong and stronger yet

In our deep, deep need to overcome
The challenge of one small defective gene.
Our own deep thorn.

by Jack Forsyth

You've been inside since date of birth
Plotting your awesome course.
To some, you are so gentle
To others, you are so mean!
Quietly, you eat away until we start to fall!
Our arms and legs begin to shrink with weakness overall.
That's when we learn your dreaded name

Quietly, you sneak about, eating away.
Pain, now is in your course
Trying to make us worse
Laughing all the way.
You do so much inside of us, we are left to wonder
How such a little fellow could enjoy such a scheme!

Even though you make us worse, at your discretion
We will stand, walk, or crawl –

Your fight you'll never win!
We have heart and soul
The one thing you can't eat!

Well–Do They?
By Ann Fitton

Do they know what's it's like when you're screaming with pain
You can't stand, you can't sit, you can't lie
Your insides are searing, your muscles aflame
You're tearing your hair out, and you wish you could die?

Do they know when that happens everything appears black
Where's the sunshine, the blue skies, the peace
Do they realize truly the flayings, the flack
That bombards your body and seems never to cease?

Do they care really truly, or do they despair
"Just hand out more killers," they say
"We've done what we can, we've tried hard to care
But let's face it, it's hopeless and we're busy today."

You pray hard to your God, let this be the day
When the medical powers that be
Let a new kind of drug appear on the way.
Who's first to try it? Please let it be me.

And still we continue on our own painful path
Our tears have dried out, and we try hard to laugh.
For a miracle to happen through our microscope
And that's what we live for - we live always in hope.