
by Irene Roth, Blog Editor/Writer
This is a Haiku poem that I wrote while the ladies in my group wrote in my writing program on October 25th, 2025. Everyone in the group loved it. So, I thought I would share it here with the greater FSN Community.
Once I ran with wind
Through fields of unbroken dreams—
The body obeyed.
Morning was easy,
Like breath before the first sigh—
I was infinite.
Then came the whisper,
A flicker beneath my skin,
Lightning without rain.
Bones became anchors,
Muscles turned to molten stone,
Fatigue wrapped my soul.
Friends spoke of my glow
Fading like a late sunset—
They could not see pain.
Doctor after room,
Labels fell like autumn leaves—
None could name the storm.
I learned the language
Of aching and surrender,
Syllables of rest.
Days slowed into dust,
A clock with no urgency,
Time lost all its edge.
Identity cracked—
Who was I without my fire?
Who beneath the mask?
I mourned the woman
Who once danced through deadlines’ dust,
The “old me” vanished.
Yet in quiet hours,
I heard a gentler heartbeat—
One that matched my pace.
The world moved too fast,
But I found a softer sky
Inside stillness’ arms.
I became fluent
In small mercies and moonlight—
The art of pacing.
My worth once measured
In doing, producing, proof—
Now, in simply being.
The mirror offered
A face lined with tenderness,
Not defeat—but grace.
I learned to listen
To whispers of weary bones—
They are my teachers.
Each flare a lantern,
Revealing the sacred now—
Pain as slow wisdom.
I stitched new meaning
From broken threads of my days,
A tapestry whole.
Fibro did not steal;
It remade the architecture
Of my belonging.
Now I live gently,
A pilgrim in my own skin—
Unhurried, aware.
I breathe differently—
Less as conquest, more as prayer,
Each inhale a gift.
In stillness, I bloom,
No longer who I once was,
But something deeper.
Beneath all the ache,
A self reborn in silence—
Light through fragile glass.
The storm still visits,
But I have learned its music,
And I hum along.
Soft morning rises,
And I greet it with open hands—
Alive, enough, whole.

