Another Day Goes By

Yep, its that time of the year again. April is here and so is Parkinson's Awareness Month.

Some of you probably think I forgot, but nay, nay! I haven't forgotten my annual poem I always do this time of the year. This one is a little different of a poem, that I pray ends on a happier note than at first it appears it will. See what you think!

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Another day goes by
Another day closer to the end.

Another day goes by
Another symptom grows stronger.

Another day goes by
Another disability appears.

Another day goes by
Another dopamine-cell dies.

Another day goes by
Another day to be alive.

Another day goes by
That I can spend with you.

Dream Births

It is that time of year again: Parkinson's Awareness Month (April). As I've done for the past few years, I've written a poem for the occasion. However, this one is a bit different in that it doesn't address Parkinson's Disease directly, but could apply to any number of tragic happenings and conditions that threaten our future and dreams, leaving many hopeless and feeling helpless.

Yet based on my own experience dealing with such events and diagnosis these past six years, I think there is a different perspective to absorb. With that thought in mind, I present my 2017 Parkinson's Awareness Month poem for your digestion.

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Dream Births

by R. L. Copple

I checked the map,
I picked my goal,
I planed my path,
I was ready to roll.

The road was wide
providing the room
to fulfill the desires
sucking me into gloom.

The way was easy
so I struggled less
and enjoyed addictive
pleasures, I confess.

Then tragic detours
force-dumped my rare
bucket-list of hopes
into a grave of despair.

Leaving my only route
a narrow, climbing path:
rocky, exhausting, austere—
drenched in grief’s wrath.

Among peaks and valleys—
hardened by sun, droughts,
freezing ice and snow—
I clawed through my doubts.

Yet somewhere within,
I found the inner drive
to put one foot forward
rather than let it slide.

I’m not going to lie,
the trip was a pain,
the struggle: surreal—
it drove me insane.

But when I crested a peak,
panting from thirst,
more dreams were born
as they did at the first.

Dreams more precious
despite all the loss;
they became more valuable
due to the high cost.

Now I know that my
destiny is given wings
when my dreams die
and are no longer kings.

I allowed divine passion
to gestate fresh life,
birthing new dreams—
carved by His knife.

Why Me?

As I've been wont to do these past two years since coming down with Parkinson's Disease, I've written a poem for Parkinson's Awareness Month, which is April. Last year's can be found on this blog. I didn't want to let this year lose out, so I created one for it.

My wife said it was the best poem I'd ever written. Maybe, but it did make her cry, so that's a good sign. So I introduce to you this year's Parkinson's Awareness Month poem.

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Why Me?

R. L. Copple

A somber doctor's face meets my eyes.
His wrinkled forehead foreshadows bad news.
My future transforms to shadows
As I hear the words echoing in my ears:
You have Parkinson's Disease.

I ask, “Why me?”

As limbs stop responding to my desires
While fingers take on a mind of their own,
In a body-wide rebellion against my will—
Popping pills works, sort of, but is not a cure—
Jealously I see others walk with steady ease . . .

I ask, “Why me?”

Watching the march of PD's progress,
Looking to science for a brain time-machine,
Finding no counter-attack to halt its surge,
I'm tempted to shelve future plans and goals,
To hunker down and survive day by day—

I ask, “Why me?”

But then the truth dawns on me.
Which of us are free from tragedy?
Rare is the one who escapes unscathed
From diseases, death, and shocks in life.
Why did I think, “It'll never happen to me”?

I ask, “Why not me?”

Actually, there is still much I control:
I can love and enjoy my wife and kids.
I can push the boundaries of my abilities.
I can fight against the overwhelming odds,
Like the brave soldiers of the Alamo.

I ask, “Why not me?”

Hardships teach us the reality we skip
In our daily hustle from birth to grave.
We are not alone, but interconnected.
So selfish dreams are replaced with
Empathy and compassion for others.

I ask, “Why not me?”

Who do I think I am to demand
An escape from the furnace of fire
That burns out ego-centric impurities—
Focusing me toward humble submission
To God and my fellow life-travelers.

So I say, “Here am I, O Lord.
Only You can make the bitter waters, sweet.”

The Parkinson's War

I wrote a poem for Parkinson's Awareness month last April. While April is yet to come this year, a group I'm in is doing a "Never Give Up" theme for this month, so I wrote another poem to commemorate both events. So without further delay, I give you my Parkinson's poem for 2015.

The Parkinson's War

We march to battle
with shuffling feet.

“Heal, toe! Heal, toe!”
the cadence commands.

We load our weapons
with fumbling fingers.

Our ammo: medicine, a
healthy diet, and exercise.

To battle till death
with an undefeated foe.

Undefeated because
there is no cure . . . yet.

But the battle is not won
by simply killing the enemy,

Though we hope and pray
to see the day of its defeat.

The true battle is a fight
to live life to its fullest.

Despite the odds.
Despite the losses.

That, my fellow Parkies,
is a battle we can win—today.


~ R. L. Copple