Diagnosis: Survival/A Poem
A system built on paperwork & proof: prepared to penalize
There’s a storm in my blood…
a legacy I never asked for.
Blood clots sketching themselves
into silence and strokes.
I wrestle their weaponized language
while my reality
is measured daily:
in codes,
in denials,
a monthly check
that dares me to live
with dignity on disability.
No words can describe the pain,
the punishment
of a system built
on paperwork and proof…
pages of confusion,
puzzles prepared to penalize,
as if suffering must be obvious
to be believed.
Now, the government is facilitating
a purge on Medicaid…
flushing away millions of lives!
The first to fall:
the frail and fragile.
Ferried not to care,
but funeral homes.
We are more than a diagnosis,
files and statements.
Numbers in a system
built to forget us.
We are human.
Hear our voices.
Our rising plea…
We're all storm-blooded now;
a raging tempest,
as we fight
just to survive.
Thank you for sharing in your time to read my poetry. I write as a part of my healing journey. I share in the hopes it may lighten the load for fellow travelers along their own soul-filled journey.
Claps, highlights, and comments are digital sunshine.
Peace. 🪷
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